Granny Bang, Part I

Granny Bang
by Eddie

Part I – Invitation to tea with Gramma

When did it start? Well . . . let me think. I think it started real soon after we buried my mother’s father. Yeah, that’s when Gramma asked me to stop by one Saturday afternoon, for “tea.”

The first time scared me real bad. Don’t know why. Maybe ’cause I thought someone was sure to find out about it and blame me. Well, that didn’t happen – my Gramma kept her mouth shut about it, until . . well, I don’t want to get ahead of the story.

The first time Gramma had me come to her bedroom for tea, which I thought was a little strange. But it was a big room, with a BIG bed, and a small table with two chairs. She had quite a nice little “tea” set out for us: slices of her poppy seed cake, sugar cookies, bread and jam, and, of course, a big pot of strong tea, with lots of real cream and sugar to stir into it. She was using her best tea pot and cups, too, which made me feel really good. Even so, it made me a little nervous to be in her bedroom.

And the way she was dressed! When she met me at the door she had one of her old “wraps” on, what my mom calls “housecoats.” It covered everything from Gramma’s neck to her ankles, so I didn’t think anything at all about it. But, after she had me sit down and poured me a big cup of tea, she asked me if she could get a little more comfortable. I told her ‘course she could, its your own house, you know, and then she took off her wrap.

My eyes almost fell out of my head when I saw what was underneath that wrap. Gramma’s thin, but she does have breasts, and she was wearing a little black lace top that was so tight I could see she was wearing a sort of half bra underneath it, something that just pushed her breasts up a bit. And she was also wearing a really short skirt. It looked like it was made of black and white strings kinda glued together, and it didn’t come down more that half way to her knees. She was also wearing old fashioned black stockings, with lace at the top, which I could see ’cause the top was about where the skirt ended They were held up by old fashioned garters, which clipped the top of each one and then ran up under her skirt. I had never seen anything like it before, and I didn’t know what to think about my Gramma wearing such stuff, but she smiled real brightly, so I did, too.

“Do you like my outfit, Eddie?” she asked, after she tossed the wrap onto the floor.

“Yes, ma’am” I answered, with my throat really tight. She smiled even bigger then and told me she had this outfit made for special times with her and Grandpa, years ago. And she still like to wear it. Then she sat down in the chair opposite me at the table.

That’s when I got the biggest surprise. Those black and white threads that made her skirt weren’t glued together at all, they were just threads, and when she sat down they kinda fell away on each side and I could see that she wasn’t wearing any panties!

My hand had been reaching for a cookie when she sat, but instead I froze and couldn’t do anything but look at my Gramma lap where some of the threads covered her pussy, but the rest were falling away behind her. I didn’t see any hair coming through the threads, either, and I know women’s pussies have hair because Becka, my girlfriend, has a lot of hair on hers, red like the hair on her head. Gramma’s hair is silver grey, but I didn’t see any hairs on her pussy at all – just those few threads covering her sex.

“It’s okay to look. That’s what I want, Eddie,” she said, and I just continued to stare. While I was staring Gramma poured herself a cup of tea, and leaned toward me to reach the sugar bowl. Without moving my eyes I could see that she had really pink nipples showing through her lace top, and they were really hard and tight looking, like she was really excited. I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do or say, so I just kept looking, at her excited tits and nearly naked pussy, for what seemed to be a long time.

Then my Gramma started talking. She told me how she had been only 16 when she first met my Grandpa, and how much she liked him from the first. The second time she saw him he took her for a walk around her parent’s house, and, back behind the garden shed, he pulled up her shirt and sucked her nipples really hard, while putting his hand down under her skirt and inside her panties. His fingers were rubbing her and making her feel really good down there while he was sucking on her breasts, and he was making her pussy feel pretty good, too. When he saw that she didn’t scream or cry or pull away, he unbuttoned his pants right then, pulled her panties down, and stuck his big thick cock right up into her pussy.

“He fucked me right there behind the shed,” she said proudly, and I could see that her nipples looked even harder and bigger with her telling the story. “And he married me two months later. He came over to see me, and fuck me, every day during that time we waited to get married, too. I liked that. No, I mean I loved that fucking. He was rough and he just took me like he knew I would like it his way, and I did like it.

“And he fucked me at least twice each day after we were married, right up almost until he died,” she said, looking down for a moment and I could hear a bit of sadness in her voice. “During the last few years he couldn’t do it as much was we wanted, so we had to do other things instead. He bought toys shaped like his penis and used them to fuck me, and then made me fuck myself with them while he watched. I think he liked that almost as good as fucking me himself. He would lay back and stroke himself, (Even ‘though he couldn’t get hard it felt good, he said.) And he would tell me how he wanted me to do it. Faster. Slower. Harder. Sometimes just with the tip going in and out of my pussy lips. Yes, he like to watch that. He always had me shave my pussy, of course. Did you notice that I don’t have any hair on my pussy?”