With a Little Help From Grandma

When my friends and I decided to start writing dirty stories, we didn't know it was called "erotic literature." Nope, to us it was just plain porn. It was just the three of us, though, Nicky Harrelson, Monty Strode, and me. We each were set on out-doing each other, and with no indication of what our stories might be, we all dropped twenty dollars into a kitty and whoever's was judged the best by an outside source would win the prize.

Three days later and we read them to one another. Nicky's was about a vampire slut who got off on fucking werewolves, Monty's was about a nymphomaniac who would walk the streets at night, fucking winos and the homeless until the wee hours of the morning, and mine, which I had titled

Mirror, Mirror

, was about identical twins who decided that the best way to know what it was like to have sex with herself would be to have sex with each other. Lisa McCardle was chosen as our reader, and by the time she was done I was sixty dollars richer.

"There's a website called 'Literotica' that you might want to look into," she informed me. "I read stuff from there all the time, and the incest genre is really popular."

"Thanks. I'll look into it," I told her. I gave her ten bucks for taking the time to read our stories, and once I got home I logged onto the Literotica website. Yeah, there were stories from every genre one could think of. I looked at them all, saving 'Incest / Taboo" for last. Once there, I looked at the many stories available. I read a few, four total, and decided that I could write just as competently as the other authors had. My first submission would be

Mirror, Mirror

, of course, and depending on how well it was received, I would venture out to other incest topics. That could wait, though, as I had an online algebra test due by eight. I lay my story to the side and took my test—I made an eighty-six, if you must know—and from there I watched

Rick and Morty

until it was time for dinner. Afterwards, I showered and played video games before calling it a night.

The following day I was back at school. I aced my Psychology exam and my English test, and then I was right back home. As I made my way to my room a voice called out to me from the room adjacent to mine, Grandma's room. Grandma had come to live with us after she, an English teacher of some forty years, had retired. Since Grandpa had passed some ten years back, Mom and Dad thought it only right that she live with us, and I was cool with that as well as I liked Grandma a lot. Part of her daily rituals was to take care of the house. She volunteered for this, citing earning her keep, so she would clean here and straighten up there. On more than one occasion she had found questionable material in my room, i.e. a "Pickle Rick" mini-bong and a couple of porn DVDs, none of which she told the folks about. She was cool like that.

"Yeah, Grandma?" I said as I entered her room.

"I found this today while straightening your room," she told me as she held my story aloft. "It's smut, David. Well-written smut, I'll grant you, but smut nonetheless."

"Sorry, Grandma. I'll do a better job of hiding it next time."

She laughed at my honesty, then asked, "Why would you write something like this, though?"

"Oh, me and some guys at school were just seeing who could write the best porn, is all. I won."

"Well, I don't see how," she said as she passed it back to me. In true teacher fashion, Grandma had taken a red pen and marked my mistakes. She had even assigned a grade to it: 84. "I would have graded it higher, but there were just too many damned misplaced modifiers."

I laughed at her. "Well, thanks for grading it. I was going to submit it to a website. Now I can polish it up before doing so."

"While I," she began as she produced my Pickle Rick bong, "feel a migraine coming on."

"Now that you mention it, so do I," I said, then followed her out to the back patio where we smoked some of her medical marijuana. It wasn't the first time we smoked together, and it sure wasn't going to be the last. I'll say this much for her, though: Grandma always bought the good shit. I mean two tokes and I was done.

We returned to our respective rooms. I made all the changes that Grandma suggested, but now I was facing another problem. Should I submit the paper as it was originally presented, that is, a stand-alone story titled

Mirror, Mirror

, or should I incorporate Grandma's assistance into it? I decided to go with the latter. I added the appropriate text and renamed the story

With a Little Help from Grandma

. I told her what I had done and assured her that I had not used her real name of Alice Bentley, but the fictitious "Pearl Diamond." She thought it was cute. Emboldened, I set out to craft chapter two of this story, never once imagining where it could go.

The second chapter involved the twins seducing their mother. My friends at school really got a kick out of it, and once again I beat out Nicky and Monty to take the top prize. I asked Grandma to look at it before I submitted it to Literotica, and she dutifully pointed out all the changes that needed to be made. I made them, added the text of her assistance, and submitted.

I noticed that I had twenty-three followers just from that first story alone. Hopefully the number would double with this latest addition, but I wasn't too sure it would. From what I could tell from other chapter stories, readership dwindled the farther along a story went. I didn't want to write a third chapter until I saw what kind of response this one got.

After three days it was published, and two days after that I was up to fifty-six followers,

and some of them even left comments

. Not only did I have seven comments on this one, but people had actually gone back and commented on the first, telling me how hot a story it was, how they looked forward to the next installment, etc. I immediately got started on the third chapter, the one where Aunt Linda comes for a visit and is indoctrinated into the fold.

"These are really some hot scenes you're writing, David. Have you experienced lesbianism on a personal level?"

"I've never had a threesome, if that's what you mean, Grandma," I told her. "I just write what I've seen in porn, plus my imagination of what the perfect scenario might be." She said nothing. "So, you think they're hot?"

"Certainly. Don't you?"

"Uh ... Yeah. Of course."

"Well, I should point out that, in your ignorance of lesbianism, you got a couple of things wrong there, such as dialogue and scene, but don't worry. I corrected them."

"And what makes you such an expert?" I asked her. She simply touched a finger to her nose, smiled, and handed me back my story, prompting me to near-shout, "You've been with a woman before, Grandma?"

"Your grandmother isn't the prude you'd like to believe her to be," she responded. "I've had many wonderful experiences in my day."

"That is the coolest thing I've ever heard," I responded. "I never would have thought it."

"Well, now you know, but keep it between us, right?"

"Hunh? Oh, yeah. Right. I'd never tell anyone, Grandma. Scout's honor." With that, I kissed her cheek and made my way back to my room where I immediately began adding in the additional text, including "Pearl's" declaration that she had dabbled in lesbianism, but the whole time I did, something kept scratching at the back of my mind.

Is Grandma actually getting off on reading my stories

? I decided to ask that very question at the end of my submission. If it proved to be true, it would open a whole new avenue in which the story could be presented. If not? Well, it's fiction regardless, right?

The more I thought on it, the more I came to understand that this story,

With a Little Help from Grandma

, was being written backwards in that

Mirror, Mirror

was not the prime component, at least, not anymore, but the writer and the grandmother were.

I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning crafting the next chapter of what may prove to be my magnum opus. I was quite proud of it, but I wondered how Grandma would react when reading the following:

As he had done on past occasions, David left his story under the keyboard of his computer so his grandmother could find it easily enough. She did, and after David left for school and his parents went to work, she sat down and began to read. She had surmised that Chapter Four would see the twins finally bring their father into the fold, and she was right. As she read, though, Pearl became aware of just how aroused the story had made her. Subconsciously, she began plucking at her right nipple, sending ripples of delight throughout her body

, etcetera, etcetera, and so on. I even added some cheesy dialogue between the two upon "David's" return home.

Once I was home, Grandma called out to me to meet her on the patio. Once there, she lit up a joint and had me sit next to her at the picnic table. She took a hit and passed it to me. I took a big one, then waited for her to expel the smoke from her lungs so she could begin telling me whatever it was she felt I needed to know.

"I went to that 'Literotica' website today so I could read your submissions." She took another hit just as I exhaled, then passed it back to me. "I was curious as to what you added to the stories before submitting them. That's okay isn't it?"

"Oh, sure, Grandma. It involves you, in a semi-fictitious way, so yeah, every right to know."

"Good. Thank you." Another toke, then, "I noticed the turn the story is taking, David. It is less about

Mirror, Mirror

and more about the grandmother and grandson."

"My Creative Writing instructor says that sometimes a story takes on a life of its own," I said in way of a reply. "I think that's what's happening here, Grandma. I think

Mirror, Mirror

was a gateway to a better story."

"Better in what way?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," I told her. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Well, it seems that you have

some

idea, considering what you wrote yesterday."

"I guess I was just testing the waters, Grandma. I can rewrite it, if you like."

"No-no, I'm interested in seeing where you decide to take this," she said. "I do have one request, however, and I think you'll agree that it could add a whole new dynamic to the story."

"Sure, Grandma. Let's hear it."

"What would you say to a true collaboration? Instead of me merely editing these stories for you, I take over the dialogue of the grandmother and contribute to the narrative."

"Hmmm," I said as I thought it over. "It would add authenticity to the story. Yeah. Why not?"

"Great," she said with a big smile. "Oh, and we'll leave in that part about me rubbing my nipple because that really happened."

"What!?"

"What can I say? The story got me aroused."

I just looked at her, and in all honesty, I looked at her not as my grandmother, but as some older woman completely unrelated to me who got off on reading and writing porn.

I honored Grandma's request, and that night I wrote of the conversation she and I had on the patio, plus the following, which was true as well:

David sat at his computer. He never thought it would happen to him, but he had writer's block. He really couldn't commit to a single idea insofar as what direction the story should take, and he wondered if this was truly a case of not knowing what to write, or not daring to write it. Just then he caught movement from the corner of his eye. He looked to see his grandmother returning from her shower. When she turned on her room light, her body was silhouetted by her thin, pink nightgown. He just stared at her. He could see the shape of her large breasts, her thin waist, and her ample hips and buttocks. She wasn't wearing panties, and he had to admit that the idea of this aroused him. He wondered what her pubic area looked like, though. He hated to be prejudicial in his thinking, but he thought that because of her age she might have a scraggly, unkempt bush between her legs. He wondered if she ever embraced the idea of shaving. That began in the eighties, about thirty years ago, which meant she would have been in her thirties at the time, so yeah, she probably did. He decided to imagine that she still did as it made for a more pleasant picture. He abruptly stopped himself right there

. What the fuck am I doing, fantasizing over my grandmother?

Still, he couldn't seem to look away

.

"...

dear

?"

She had said something—he really didn't know what, though, so caught up in his fantasy he had been—but it was enough to bring him back to the here and now. "I'm sorry, Grandma? What did you say?"

"

I asked if there was something I could help you with

."

"

No, ma'am. Just lost in thought." It was the truth, but she didn't have to know what those thoughts were

.

"

Well, how's your story coming along?" she asked as she crossed the threshold leading from her room to his

.

"

I'm having trouble getting started," he answered

.

That was enough for now. I got up and knocked on Grandma's door, which she had partially closed. "Yes? Come in." I did. "Oh, was there something you needed?"

"A couple of things," I said. "First, I'm going through too much paper with me writing, then you editing, then me rewriting, etc., so from now on I am going to keep the story in a Document Folder on the computer that you can access any time you wish."

"That does seem a bit more environmentally sound," Grandma responded.

"Second, I wrote something just now, and I'm a bit reluctant for you to see it, but I did agree on full collaboration, so if you'd like to read it now ... Well, you can if you want."

"Sure," Grandma said as she stood. "Just let me get my glasses." She then went into my room and sat at the computer desk. She read what I had written, looked back at me, then read it again. I started to say something, but she shushed me as she continued to study the text. Finally, her fingers moved up to the keyboard and she began to clack away. When she was done, she invited me to sit and read the following, and for the record, as I read, Grandma emulated the actions of Pearl, so that when Pearl looked over fictitious David's shoulders, Grandma did the same to me.

Pearl stepped behind David and lowered herself to where her chin rested atop his head. Whether she knew it or not, her breasts dangled on either side of her grandson's face. She smiled the briefest of bits as she wondered what could possibly be going through his mind right now. Thinking those thoughts would make a good addition to the story, she pointed at the screen and suggested that this might be a good place to incorporate a tense moment between the two, something innocent, yet something that could possibly open the door to a future scenario. She then caressed her grandson's cheek as she said, "I'm sure you'll come up with something," then she stood erect and took her leave

.

Grandma had perfectly mirrored Pearl's actions, up to her reaching my door, but then she turned and said, "Whether it is fictitious David or real David who is so curious, I do maintain a well-manicured pubic area." She then returned to her room and completely closed her door.

I just sat there while the deaf silence enveloped me, then I became aware of a faint noise. I turned my head this way and that, discerned that it was coming from the hallway, and got up to investigate. The closer I got to Grandma's door, however, the louder it got. "Oh, snap!" I whispered as I realized what she was doing. I silently returned to my room, closed my door, and jerked off. When I was finished, I went to the bathroom to clean myself off, then immediately incorporated this into the story. I was hard again by the time I had finished writing it, so I jerked off a second time. I went to the bathroom again, cleaned myself again, and then incorporated this into the story as well. Thankfully I was not hard this time around, so I decided to call it a night. I fell asleep wondering how many times Grandma had made herself cum.

The following day at school was a bust. All I could think about was what Grandma's reaction was going to be over what I wrote. As luck would have it, today was not my "last class ends at noon" day; I was here until three-thirty. I had come close to calling Grandma several times to get feedback from her, but in the end I didn't, resolving that it would make me look weird. I just muddled through the day, happy when my last class was finally over.

Once home, I found Grandma on the back patio smoking some weed. I joined her, but I didn't dare bring up the story. I felt that if it was going to be discussed, I would allow her to offer an unsolicited comment. She didn't, though, and it really bummed me out.

My demeanor changed a bit for the better when Dad called at four-thirty and said that we would be eating out tonight at Hog Wild, the area's preeminent barbecue restaurant. We ate out maybe once a month, so it was a treat whenever we did. I informed Grandma, who replied, "Good. I have the munchies like nobody's business." I laughed. She laughed hysterically.

While we ate, Dad and Mom announced that they would be driving up to Hilton Head on Friday for what they called a "Mini-va-ca." They took several of these a year, one every month, to a different locale. Whatever the reason for it, it seemed to work. Theirs was the strongest marriage I had ever seen.

Later that night, after Grandma and I had taken our respective turns showering, she stepped into my room and said, "Can we talk?"

"Sure," I said. I had been playing

World of Final Fantasy

. "Let me get to a save spot." I did, then said, "I'm all ears."

"Not working on the story tonight?" she asked.

"Nah, I thought I'd take the night off."

"I see," she said, then sat at the foot of my bed. "I'm just wondering if you're comfortable with how this story is playing out?"

"Yeah, Grandma. Sure." Silence. She added nothing, so I said, "Are you? Because if you aren't, I can dial it back some."

"No. No, I'm fine with it. I just wanted to make sure you were."

"Well, I am."

"Even after ...?"

"Yeah, Grandma. Even after. Don't worry. I'm cool with it if you are."

She smiled, then a look of mild puzzlement came over her face. "Now, by 'it,' what, exactly, do you mean?"

"Um ... Just ... You know. I'm cool. Whatever 'it' is, it is what it is." Wording it as such would allow me to simultaneously state I knew what she did while feigning ignorance of it as well. Still, maybe she needed a little more reassurance than that, so I offered, "If it makes you feel any better, I 'it-ed' twice myself."

She smiled. "Okay," she finally said. She stood, walked to my door, then turned back to face me. "By the way, I have a new scenario I'm working on. I'll let you know when I've fleshed it out properly."

The following day, Wednesday, my eleven-o'clock class was cancelled, so I headed home early. I entered the house and made my way to my room and stopped as I saw Grandma sitting in my computer chair, masturbating. "Grandma, what?"

"Oh, my Lord!" she shouted as she leapt from the chair, pushed her way past me, and raced to her room. In all honesty, I didn't think she had it in her to move so quickly anymore. I looked at the computer screen to see that she had been watching a porno involving a young man in his twenties and some woman who looked to be in her seventies. It wasn't POV, thank God. I hate those. Apparently, Grandma does as well.

Grandma

.

Jesus

,

I embarrassed the hell out of her

, but how could I fix it? I paused the movie and then went to her door and lightly knocked.