Last Hurrah With Grandpa Joe
Part 1
I initially wrote a short caption about "Grandpa Joe" to a rather explicit image that was censored a few weeks ago. It's been so long since I've had anything censored by Tumblr that I forgot they do that! I even marked it as "mature content with sexual themes" and it still got censored. It seems pointless to have that category and then censor items marked as such, but I digress. Anyway, I decided to lengthen it into a story with no image attached this time.
***This is more of a prologue to set up the main story than anything else.***
I couldn't believe it was finally happening. I was running my hand along the hair spread across the mature muscle of his chest, looking down into his eyes, seeing the emotion in them, and his face contorting into alternating mixes of pleasure and discomfort. When he let a soft "Tony..." escape from his lips on one of my downward thrusts, it got to me big time. I ran my hand up his chest to the side of his neck and leaned down to claim a kiss.
I'd turned 18 about ten months earlier and in my youthful exuberance I'd promised myself that I'd do everything within my power to have him. But the pragmatist in me had been certain the odds were stacked against me. Improbably, over the holidays in November and December, things drastically changed and I knew what was happening now was all but a forgone conclusion.
Starting in middle school and into high school, I'd exclusively dated girls even though things secretly felt off about it. I'd convinced myself that whatever I was feeling was normal and I'd eventually grow into the sort of horndog pussy hound most of my other friends were becoming. It was during a mutual JO session with my best friend Mark during my high school years that it became crystal clear to me why dating girls had never felt quite right.
I'd asked him to pass me the lube so I could get my dick a little more wet. Instead of handing it to me, he squirted some into his own palm and reached over to slick me up. I'll never forget how it felt when his hand first touched me and slid up and down my erection. As hard as I already was, I got harder. I'd gotten hand jobs from a couple of the girls I'd gone out with and none of them felt like this! Although I'd tried to keep up a pretty good poker face, I was all too eager when Mark asked me to slick him up too. After we both shot our loads, I quickly lapped his cum off of my fingers when he got up to grab us a couple of cum rags to clean up.
Afterward, Mark had sworn me to secrecy about what had happened. I went along with it, playing the part of "straight guy who didn't want his classmates or anyone else to know he'd gotten a hand job from a dude." But after that day, nothing was the same. I now knew why dating and fooling around with girls had felt off. For appearances, I still went out with a few girls, but I started to spread my wings and try out the new toy I felt like I'd just received.
Mark and I continued to fool around, him trying to convince me - and maybe himself - that it was only when he couldn't get either of the girls he was messing around with to put out. We graduated to mutual blow jobs. To take some of the stigma off and make things less stressful for my buddy, I'd even started calling them bro jobs. Just a couple bros helping each other out. I never pushed the envelope or tried to put up a mirror in front of Mark's face, but there's no way he wasn't loving the hell out of what we did. Not the way he skillfully and almost lovingly took my dick in his mouth, licked my balls, and whimpered with delight when I returned the favor.
I had a couple other guys that I stumbled my way into fooling around with. But at the start of my senior year of high school, I really came into my own. I started up with a deeply closeted just-out-of-college English teacher at school. And perhaps the cherry on top of the sundae was Rob Foley, the father of one of my classmates, Dalton. The wrestler and I weren't particularly close at school, but we'd gotten to know our way around each other's bodies pretty well. The guy loved to kiss and had even introduced me to ass eating.
I don't know how - maybe a guilty conscience caused Dalt confessed to his dad, maybe we weren't as discreet as we tried to be when we thought we were at the Foley McMansion alone, maybe Mr. Foley figured it out on his own - but the married 44-year old investment banker and family man had called me over to their house one Sunday while his wife, Dalton, and daughter were at church to try and strong-arm me into calling things off with his son. Instead, Mr. Foley not only found himself on the roster of guys I was exploring my options with, he quickly rose to the top of the list. There was something about being with an older man. At the time, I didn't quite connect the dots of why, but god was it addictive!
Unfortunately, things with the Foley men didn't last as long as I would've liked. It was my own fault, really. Sneaking around with a son and his father without either of them realizing it was tantalizing, but even more so was the idea of having them both at the same time. And that's where I went wrong. It was surprisingly easy to get both men to agree to it. Maybe Mr. Foley pretended to hold out a little bit, but his eyes gave away how much he wanted to. It was a hot scene to be sure, but about halfway into it, I found myself on the outside, watching the two of them go at it. Sitting there, watching the father and son connect in that way while I stroked myself had been amazing. It was a price I gladly paid for ultimately being ignored at a party I'd set into motion.
I'd gotten together the the Foleys once more maybe a couple months afterward and this time Rob and Dalton didn't even put up the pretense of including me. I think the only hand that touched me that day was my own. But it was surprisingly sentimental and bone-inducing when - while enjoying the post-coital high after he'd fucked his wrestle-stud son - I witnessed a tender moment between the two. I'd gotten up to go to the en suite bathroom in the master bedroom to clean myself up and I guess they thought I was out of earshot. Instead, I stood in the doorway of the bathroom and watched Rob Foley softly stroke the side of his son's face as they made out. The father raised up, looked deep into Dalton's eyes and I heard him softly but distinctly say, "I love you...so fuckin' much, Dalton."
"God, Dad," my classmate had practically moaned. "I love you too."
As I stood there and watched them make out and start down the road to Round 2, my own boner was reasserting itself. It was in that moment that I knew - without actually knowing for sure - that these two were having sex on the regular. Anywhere and anytime that they could. I never was invited to join the two again and I totally understood why.
As a quick aside... Maybe five years later, Mr. Foley filed for divorce from Mrs. Foley, citing irreconcilable differences. I guess it would've been a bad look to put "because I've fallen in love with our son" on the legal papers. In fact, I just had a video call with Dalton the other day. He and Rob just celebrated their 15-year anniversary of their marriage - spiritual, not legal...for obvious reasons - a few weeks earlier. They had a couple kids via surrogacy and their oldest, R.J., is getting ready to start his sophomore year of high school, while their youngest, Nolan - named after a character in one of their favorite erotic stories, kinkily enough - will be going into 8th grade next year.
It was around that time in November - after figuring out that incest wasn't only an interest of mine, but a big turn on - that a new object of desire came into focus: Grandpa Joe. The former CEO of a tech company, the 64-year old had retired a few years earlier and although he had a McMansion in one of the outer suburbs, he spent most of his time - especially from April through October - at a spacious lake house he'd bought and renovated.
Outside of being very well-off in retirement, Grandpa Joe was cool as hell...laid back, easygoing, active, fit, and the least judgemental person I'd ever come across in my entire life. He and Grandma Barbara had divorced not long after he retired and he bounced back from it pretty quickly. He always seemed to have some sort of activity doing or something else going on. I'd overheard Mom talking to Dad more than once. Besides the hushed, whispered innuendo that Grandpa Joe had "done Grandma Barbara so dirty before the divorce," she often told Dad that she wished her parents would take a page out of Grandpa Joe's book. At 59 and 57 respectively, my maternal grandparents acted like they were two months away from having to be put in a nursing home. Grandpa Joe was most certainly not the stereotypical "pull a loose butterscotch candy out of his pocket and pinch you on the cheek" picture of a grandparent who was content to sit in an easy chair and let moss grow under his feet.
When I first caught myself checking Grandpa Joe out, I'd admonish myself and tell myself to stop. Unlike my other grandfather and even my father, Grandpa Joe treated me more like a pal than a grandson. I would've been pretty devastating if I'd done anything to screw that up. But after my experiences with Dalton Foley and his father, I felt less uncomfortable with my crush and stopped trying to make myself feel guilty. It wasn't as if I openly ogled him or said anything suggestive to him. But when I did see him, I may have subtly flirted some. What can I say? I was an 18-year old who was starting to figure out who and what I was and I was coming into my own. I was still convinced nothing would ever come of my crush other than fuel for my late night jack off sessions. That all changed in late November.
It was at the tail end of a late night chat alone in my parents' basement on Thanksgiving night. The rest of the family was upstairs. To keep the peace and put some distance between he and Grandma Barbara after a particularly frosty dinner, Grandpa Joe had gone down to the basement for a little while. Ever the dutiful - and hormone ravaged - grandson, I'd decided to keep him company. For a little while, we'd watched some boring holiday movie that was on TV about two or three weeks too early as far as I was concerned. Soon enough, we'd flipped the TV off and started shooting the shit. At first, the conversation was about how high school was almost over and college was coming up soon. He wanted to know if I was ready to start a whole new chapter of my life.
I confessed that I was crazy nervous. He'd put his hand on my shoulder to reassure me, looked deep into my eyes like a proud parent, and told me he knew I'd be fine. Of all of the cousins, I was the one with my head on the straightest. When I laughed at that and he questioned me, I deflected, worried about how he'd take the news that I was into dudes.
When the conversation turned to my love life and he asked how many girls I'd gotten to throw their legs in the air for me, I finally had to man up and confess that girls weren't my thing. He caught my drift right away and surprised the fuck out of me when he shot back with a quick and barely audible, "Me neither since the divorce, Tony."
We locked eyes and I swear it was like time froze for a good 15 to 20 seconds. Before I even knew what was happening, our lips were touching and my hand had slipped around his side. We pulled back after a few seconds and Grandpa had a worried look in his eye. "Tony..."
I'd cut him off by putting my finger to his lips. Then I replaced my finger with my lips and we were at it again...this time more deeply and earnestly. Before things went any further or we had a chance to talk about the kiss, Mom unwittingly interrupted when she beckoned me to come upstairs to say goodbye to her parents and Grandma Barbara. It wasn't much longer afterward that Grandpa Joe said his goodbyes, giving me a long look at the door while I tried to silently tell him with my own expression that we still had a lot to discuss.
A flurry of text exchanges over the next few days helped smooth things over. Ever the "cool grandfather," he hadn't tried to tell me that us making out had been a mistake, but he'd pretty much shut down the idea of it happening again without typing out the words in a text message. But I wasn't discouraged. I may have to wait it out a little bit, but I was more certain than ever that I was going to have my lips on his again. And at Christmastime, I did...and more!
My maternal grandparents had arranged to go on a non-refundable two-month cruise starting in December and Grandma Barbara was off in Arizona with a man she'd met over the internet. Apparently things had advanced to the point of them starting to spend extended time together. To me, it sounded like the beginnings of what would eventually become an episode of Dateline. But if she was happy for now, who was I to rain on her parade. With all of the relatives doing their own thing, Mom and Dad decided we'd spend the holiday with Grandpa Joe. He was only too eager to host us, insisting we spend Christmas Eve night at his place. That way, all we needed to do was wake up the next day, open presents, and eat breakfast.
Honestly, we only lived about a half an hour drive apart. We could've easily stayed home and driven over there. And to keep up appearances as a newly minted teenage adult who wanted to live his own life, I was clear to point that out to Mom and Dad. But secretly, I was already planning how I could use the fact that I'd be under the same roof as Grandpa Joe overnight to my advantage and make something happen.
It was especially telling when, even though he had two other empty guest bedrooms upstairs, he put me in the guest bedroom in the far corner of the spacious basement so "Tony can feel like he's got some independence and space from his parents and his stuffy old grandfather. Despite his insistence a month ago that nothing would happen between us again, I wondered if he was setting up a late night rendezvous out of earshot of my parents.
After dinner, I helped him do the dishes while Mom and Dad were engrossed in a police procedural on TV. We'd been washing (him) and drying (me) for about five minutes when I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially even though the living room was far enough away that someone would have to actively be eavesdropping just outside the door to hear us. "So, Grandpa..." I tried to sound confident. "After you're sure Mom and Dad have fallen asleep, you wanna join me in the basement."
He glanced my way with either a grin or a smirk...I'm not sure which. "That's a bad idea, Tone."
"All right," I tried to sound earnest yet innocent. "I'll come up to the primary suite, but it'll be more inconvenient since we'll have to worry about not making any noise."
He laughed softly. I like to think he was impressed with my moxie. "Not what I meant, kid."
I was over keeping up the pretense. Taking the bull by the horns - so to speak, I reached over, grabbed his wrist and dragged his free hand down to feel how hard I was in my pajama bottoms. When he gripped me and felt me up with a soft grunt, I knew I'd been right all along. It was just Grandpa Joe trying to be noble. "God, kiddo. You're hard as a rock!"
I looked over my shoulder and convinced no one was around, I took a step back and pushed the front of my pants down. His eyes widened and I swear I saw him lick his lips. After a few seconds, I pulled them back up and stepped back up to him. "Find your way downstairs later on and you can do more than look at my boner."
He laughed again. "You drive a hard bargain, kid," was all he said. I knew it was more than my teen arrogance. I was pretty sure I'd see him later on.
And I did. Everyone had gone to bed about an hour earlier and I was getting impatient. My confident facade was on the brink of faltering and I was about to send him a "where are you?" text when I heard his soft voice just outside the bedroom door. "Tony? You still awake, kid?"
"Yep. Come on in, Grandpa."
I don't know what I was expecting, but he walked in wearing a robe and had an almost wild, horned-up look in his eyes. I smirked at him. Confident Tony came rushing back. "I was starting to think you were going to chicken out."
"I had to make sure your folks were asleep first. Don't want anyone asking any unnecessary questions...or worse yet, following me down here." He was definitely horny, but I could also see the genuine care he had for me. "You sure you wanna go through with this, Tone?"
I pushed the sheets down to reveal my hard dick sticking up. "You tell me, old man!"
He snickered. "Oh to be 18 again."
"I bet you're matching me bone for bone." I gestured at him. "Why don't you lose the robe and let me see if I'm right?"
As I heard the words come out of my mouth, it sounded so unlike who I'd been up until then but it also sounded comfortable. Like I was being the man I was supposed to be...asking for what I wanted. I felt gratified when - after taking a moment to look at me with pride - he untied the robe and shrugged it from his shoulders. Fuck! I hadn't expected him to be fully naked underneath. I'd seen him shirtless before, but seeing the whole package - uh, so to speak - was perfection. Or at least MY version of perfection.
Six feet tall, short salt and pepper colored hair that had gone mostly salt, broad shoulders, and a still defined chest that had light and dark hair spread across it with a little bit extra meat around the middle, he had already been a thing of fantasy, but seeing what he was working with below the equator made it even better. Full looking balls and a meaty, eight inch dick that was already an angry-purple color. Damn, damn, damn!
He blushed under my gaze. "So, uh... Don't leave me in suspense. Whaddaya think?"
"I think," I grinned and held my arm out to him. "You're in need of some definite attention. Why don't you come over here and let me give you what you need, old man?"
"God damn," he grunted. "I shouldn't be so turned on at being talked to that way, you know. I'm usually the one taking the lead and trying to talk a guy out of his clothes."
"But you like it, right?" Jeez! Who was I turning into?!
I didn't need him to answer me verbally to know what the answer was. His dick involuntarily jerked in response to my question. As he sank into a kneeling position on the bed and reached out to wrap his hand around my own hard prick, he looked at me. "As long as I get to have my turn in the attention-giving department."
"You can count on it," I hesitated before deciding to give it a try. "Joe."
Just the idea of calling him by his first name without "grandpa" before it was kind of a turn on. But actually hearing myself say it out loud... It wasn't until then that I realized it was possible to turn yourself on with your own actions.
He lowered down on top of me and I wrapped my arms around him to pull him even further in. "You're gonna have to remember to only call me that when we're in bed," he chuckled.
"So this isn't a one and done thing, then?" I asked hopefully.
"I wouldn't go that far," he tried to backpedal, but it was too late. The genie was out of the bottle and he wasn't going back in.
With one hand, I reached between us to slowly stroke his dong. With the other, I reached up to grip the side of his neck and pulled him down to claim a kiss. I'd see to it that we WOULD go that far...and farther.
That night, we made out, we touched, we enjoyed each other's bodies, and traded blowjobs. I'd thought about trying to eat him out. After all, it was plainly obvious that I wasn't his first time at the rodeo. But I thought better of it. Wait and introduce that later, because there were definitely going to be more opportunities with Grandpa Joe.
After some body contact, deep conversation, and kissing, I'd wanted to get into Round 2, but the older man simply patted my chest, grinned at my endurance, and begged off...instead climbing out of my bed and putting his robe back on. I lay there in the darkness reliving what had just happened. I was hooked. Not on man to man sex. I was already hooked on that. But I was hooked on Grandpa Joe. I knew enough to know that at my age, I didn't know a whole lot. And more immediately, I didn't know how it would happen. But in that moment...laying in bed in his basement guest room, I knew I was going to fuck Grandpa Joe.
I had just reached down to slowly stroke my quickly-returned hardness when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Grandpa Joe, the horny old fucker!
"Just a heads up," it read. "I ran into your father coming out of the bathroom upstairs. I think he was suspicious."
"Oh fuck!" I involuntarily said out loud in the stillness of the room before reading the rest of the text.
"I told him I'd been down to the kitchen to get a drink of filtered water from the fridge. He seemed to accept what I said, but I know my son well enough to know he was skeptical. Wanted you to know in case he questions you tomorrow."
"Thanks for the heads up," I typed back and then shifted gears. "I'm still hard, by the way."
"Teenage hormones," he sent back.
What the hell. Might as well go for broke if I'm going to go for it. "Nope. It's you...Joe."
For several seconds, there was no response. My knee-jerk reaction was to worry that maybe I'd taken the full court press too far. But the confident top that I felt myself becoming quickly had me envisioning him hefting that 64-year old dong in his hand and stroking himself at how turned on his own grandson was by him.
"Good night, kiddo. See you in the morning!"
I wasn't ready to let him go just yet. "That an invitation for me to come upstairs?"
"Whoa, pony! Maybe we can find some time tomorrow if we can get your parents distracted long enough for a quickie."
"I'm already working on a plan," I typed back with a grin. "Night, Grandpa."
I slipped my phone back on the nightstand, used him for jack off fuel, and eased into a sound sleep.
We never did get that more alone time the next day to do anything. Dad didn't even ask me about the night before like Grandpa Joe thought he might. When we were leaving around midday, part of me wanted to stay on. But if Dad was suspicious, I didn't want to give him any further ammunition.
If I thought life was like a porno or one of those sex stories that I liked to read online and we'd fall into an intensely sexual relationship right away, I would be sorely mistaken. Instead of the opportunity for more sex presenting itself, things had actually backslid. I don't know what had happened. But no amount of flirting, innuendo, and bravado via text seemed to change the mood. Grandpa Joe and I saw each other often, but never alone for long enough that we could have a real conversation about what was going on. Maybe I'd come on too strong. This was obviously something in my sexual journey and sexual maturation that I was going to need to learn.
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