Are You Asleep, Georgie?


By request this is the sequel to ‘Granma’, maybe not the sequel that was envisioned but a sequel non-the-less

Granma fell and broke her hip that summer which brought her weekly visits to our home and sharing my bedroom to a grinding halt. I was shocked, not at the accident, but at the realisation that Granma was that frail. She wasn’t one of those wizened, wrinkly women who would snap in two in a strong wind, she was Granma, indestructible.

That was also the summer when I caught my first glimpse of the shadow of my own mortality.

But nothing serious came of it, Granma just needed rest and keeping off of her feet, which was no easy thing for Granma to bear. She was quite a vigorous woman for her age, she cycled, she swam and oh how she loved to dance. On more than one occasion when she stayed over in the spare bed in my bedroom (“he hasn’t got anything I haven’t seen before” she’d told my mother and father) and not long after we’d established our little game of feigning sleep whilst the other undressed, she had sometimes turned on the radio with the volume low so only we could hear and she’d dance a slow dance as she got naked before my eyes.

The only time I’d tried dancing in return, we’d both ended in a fit of giggles which drew the attention of my dad (Granma’s grandson) and had me jumping under the bed clothes to hide my nakedness and raging boner. Having asked “What the devil is going on?” Granma found the wit to reply “I was just telling Georgie about the time I caught you with your girlfriend on Valentine’s day.” Dad went a sort of crimson colour and left the room precipitately.

That night Granma astonished me with the tale of how she’d ‘accidentally’ walked in on her grandson (my dad) in the throes of passion with his ‘Valentine date’. She must have taken about twenty minutes to tell me that story, all the time looking into my eyes with the occasional glance at where my hand was and what it was doing.

Keeping her voice low so as not to arouse my parents she had the opposite effect on me as she related that Valentine’s night.

My Nana (dads mum) had given birth on her eighteenth birthday in a psychiatric hospital (where she’d been sent for her apparent behavioral problems: being unmarried and pregnant) and rather than see the child declared foundling Granma had taken him home and raised him as her own.

Nana eventually proved her worth to society and was given release from the hospital about ten years later. She found work in a mill, first as a treadle greaser then a shuttle runner moving on to her own machine within eighteen months. From there she became supervisor and eventually was given the chance to work in the relative quiet of the foreman’s office due to the fact of her obvious intelligence and extremely neat handwriting.

Years later Nana transferred to a mill close by her old home town but never once visited due to the fact that she had entirely forgotten her life before the hospital.

And so it happened that Dad became an apprentice engineer at that self and same mill and found himself attracted to the much older secretary that worked in the office.

Acquaintance became friendship, which eventually blossomed into lust. The secretary seemed to be very reticent about any kind of relationship, not only because of their obvious age difference, but also because of something else which she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Couldn’t pin down. Couldn’t put a name to, but after weeks became months and then a year she succumbed to his enthusiasm, his infectious smile and his familiar good looks.

When my dad’s friend eventually became his lover they went at it like knives. They fucked in the toilets, they fucked in the office, they fucked in the car park and in the alley behind the mill, they fucked in the warehouse on large bails of un-dyed shoddy and they fucked in the machine shop where a metal rule left his lover inch-marked from backside to the inside of her knee. They fucked inside and outside in the rain and in the sun, they fucked at work, they fucked at her lodgings, they fucked the landlady and her daughter. They fucked like animals, they fucked like teens, they fucked like lovers. They fucked like there was no fucking tomorrow.

By this point, my fist was beating a rhythm with Granma’s words as I sat hunched over on the edge of my bed, listening intensely to every morsel of filth that she issued from her age creased lips, her eyes shining as she orchestrated my actions with her words.

“Georgie, do you want to ride pillion?” Granma asked.

I was puzzled. I’d never heard this before. Was it a euphemism for shagging? I’d really enjoyed our nightly excursions in mutual masturbation and was happy that Granma was happy. But there’s a big difference between wanking and fucking, not just three letters and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck my own Granma. My great grandmother in fact.

“What’s that?” I said playing for time, and for answer she put the palms of her hands casino oyna at the side of each breast and brought them together to form a soft, pliant mound on her chest and then began slapping her tits together.

“Tit wank.” She whispered. “Come here.”

I was still very nervous about this, especially since dad had walked in and nearly caught me frolicking naked in front of his mother’s mother. I looked at the door, then back at Granma and shook my head with a worried frown creasing my brow.

“OK.” She soothed, “it’s alright. Your dad daren’t walk in again, but it’s ok. Would you like me to finish the story?”

I nodded and gulped “Please.”

She grinned and flashed her eyes as she laid down her condition. “Only if you promise that I can hold it when you cum.”

This wasn’t a problem and I nodded again, smiling.

“We’ll move onto the good stuff another day.” She said, half question and half statement.

I took a deep breath and conceded, then Granma, now with the covers thrown back on her bed, rolled onto her side to face me. Her breasts with their now poky nipples layered across her chest, draped the side of the mattress as she raised her right knee to give her hand access to the silky white hair which covered her mound and curled around her fingers.

Noticing that my own fingers had returned to grasp my erection and were slowly stroking as I gazed at her body Granma pulled her hand from her crotch and pinched the elongated nipple of her breast pulling her tit upwards past her shoulder and then let it slap back down against the other again and again she asked “Are you sure you don’t want some titty wank?”

I declined her offer again with a smile and with mock disappointment she made a moue and then continued her story whilst continuing her own pleasure between angled thighs.

My dad and his lover. They’d fucked all over town, they’d fucked quite a number of the people of the town: Two of dad’s ex-girlfriends, an usherette and the projectionist at the local cinema, the landlord, his wife, a barmaid and the cellarman at the Golden Lion pub, two barmaids at the King’s Arms, the Mayor and his lady wife, the tingulary man and a bookie’s runner when they couldn’t afford a bet on the Grand National. (30/1 outsider which romped home by four lengths).

My dad fucked his lover in the cunt, he fucked her mouth and her tits and he fucked her arse. He fucked her with his fingers, he fucked her with his tongue and his cock. He fucked her with a peppermill and a rolled up copy of the Radio Times. She fucked him ragged and she fucked him raw.

And all this within a twelve-month.

The first time that Granma met her grandson’s lover was eleven months after their passion had kindled and immediately raged into conflagration. One of Granma’s many part-time jobs was barmaid at The Saracen’s Head (I suppose that’s how she gained all the lurid details of her own kin’s antics) and on this particular February afternoon she had returned home to find four letters on the doormat. Two each for her and her grandson and all four (she surmised from the stiff contents) Valentine’s cards.

Granma opened the mail addressed to her and found that one card was sweet and mysterious, all hearts and flowers and puppy dogs and kittens and “Will you be my Valentine?”. The other made her blush and flush from cheekbone to nipples. It appeared to be home-made, at least she didn’t imagine that one would be able to buy similar in any shops. The picture on the front was of a penis of spectacular size tied with a pink ribbon at the base, the verse inside was handwritten and read;

Love is rare, don’t break my heart Be my valentine, we’ll never part No melodrama, comedy or farce I’d love to fuck you up the arse.

Being a barmaid, Granma had heard any amount of ribaldry in the saloon bar, the come ons, the sweet talk usually all directed at her cleavage rather than her face and, to be honest, she quite enjoyed the banter and gave as good as she got. “You’d drown in there love.”, “They’d have to call out the mine rescue for you.”, “Now what use would I have for a dick attached to a dick?” But the verse in the card had struck a chord within her secret heart and she found herself standing in the hallway of her home with a heaving bosom and dampening knickers gazing in hidden hope? at that lewd picture.

In the kitchen, where she placed her grandson’s letters under the slim crystal vase in the centre of the oil cloth covered table, she became a little peckish and deciding it was too soon to make the tea before he came home, she picked up one of the carrots she was going to chop up and put into a stew and began to nibble at the end as she made her way once more into the hall.

Quite before she had realised, she found herself taking the stairs on unsteady feet and knees turned gloppy holding the very daring card in one hand and the means to scratch a certain itch in the other.

“I hadn’t planned to go fuck myself with slot oyna a carrot George,” she told me “it just happened. One of those things.”

Granma walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot tap in preparation for her afternoon soak before she went to her next part time work as a cleaner at the town hall.

Passing my dad’s bedroom on the way, Granma walked across the landing at the top of the stairs to her own room where she laid the card on the bed and carefully placed the carrot, now wet with spit and marked by her teeth, alongside.

Her unconscious excitement had her in a daze as she absent mindedly removed her clothes. She unbuttoned her low cut blouse at the front and the cuffs and as she laid it on the bed she reached across to take a bite from her snack, all the while keeping her eyes on the valentine’s card, and this was the point at which she realised her hunger was playing tricks. Or rather her hunger had shifted.

Instead of biting down on the vegetable Granma merely laid it along her tongue and closed her lips around it then pulled it slowly until it left her mouth as she licked the very end with the tip of her tongue and a small silvered string of saliva would drip to be caught in the confines of her caught up cleavage, with her mind and her eyes filled with the picture that lay on the bedspread. After she’d unbuttoned and slid out of her skirt, again she lifted up the carrot to savour its taste and texture but always with the Valentine’s picture foremost in her mind’s eye.

For each item of clothing, for each snap of unhooked suspender, she returned her oral attention to the carrot, making it glisten and then leave its cool-warm trail to nestle between her breasts.

So lost was Granma in her daydream that she didn’t hear the hushed urgent voices beyond the partition wall, not until she had unhooked her push-up bra and released her breasts to fall slightly down and apart and let the reservoir of pooled saliva trickle down between them, over the slight plumpness of her belly and into the very fine trail of hair that began an inch or so below her navel and descended then spread below.

Granma’s reverie was momentarily suspended but pulled her back in when the sound didn’t quite register on her conscious, it merely made her hands pause as she pressed her palms to the outside of her bosoms and closed them together to slide each across the other in a slick mixture of sweat and spit. Then, as she leant forward to take up her prospective pseudo-cock another, louder sound paralysed her forward motion. A long low moan reached her ears from the bedroom next door and then, just as suddenly, she remembered the bath water and the still running tap.

Without a second thought she ran on unshod toes, breasts swinging and belly glistening, across the landing and pushed open the bathroom door, where she rushed inside to quickly turn off the tap still filling her bath.

“You’re next.” She told the bath. “But I have something else to do first.” And she gave the still rippling water a wicked wink and with that, a promise of her body to hold. She had entirely forgotten about what it was that had broken the spell of the dick pictured on the Valentine card and the unaccountable lure of the root vegetable which still lay waiting upon her counterpane. So, thinking herself still alone in the house she sauntered back along the landing to her bedroom door, mostly naked and still quite slick.

Approaching the door Granma began to feel excitement at what she was about to experience, as a fluttery feel in her tummy, working upwards through her now taught nerves, shortening her breath and tingling her nipples, which made them tighten and tingle in turn.

“It wasn’t that I’d been sex starved Georgie,” she told me as I sat with my mind spellbound by her words and my cock fingerbound in my fist “it was just seriously naughty. Ladies didn’t do that then, or at least they didn’t talk about it. It just wasn’t the done thing for a Grandmother to go round fucking herself with a carrot.”

When she reached the door jamb at the entrance to her bedroom Granma moved close to the woodchip covered wall and leaned across to peer shyly into the room, as though daring herself to enter and continue with this outrageous thing. The covering on the wall was quite rough and grated shockingly and sensually across her erect nipples, which made her gasp with surprise and delight, so much so that she flattened her large bosom against it and deliberately dragged her tits across the pattern, thrilling at the texture and wickedness of her action.

She stood with what she thought was a coquettish stance at the side of the bed, one hip cocked with a hand resting on it, fingers splayed and following the contours of her waist. Her eyes flickered between the picture of the phallus and the ersatz phallus that lay alongside. Then she made a conscious decision to bring the two to a closer resemblance and took a pink ribbon from her dresser draw canlı casino siteleri and tied it neatly in a bow around the think end of the carrot.

“The colours clashed a bit.” Granma informed me ” The orange carrot with a pink bow, but now it was my own personal cock.”

Granma held the vegetable with her slim, painted fingers circling just below the ribbon and ran the length of it along her tongue and down her throat then pulled it back slowly disgorging saliva to run down her chin, throat, breasts, belly and into the waistband of her work knickers; silk and slick and greasy to the touch.

The tip of her orange cock followed, lingering often. First in the valley and then in circles around each proud nipple, then down again over the wet across her belly sending shiver signals along her nerves and then slowly, so slowly, pressing inwards against the flesh to get beneath the silk and then agonisingly, tenderly, snagging a hair or two in its descent she played the vegetable penis across and around her mons.

After a short while, with the tension of the situation and the muscular effort of standing with her knees slightly apart and subtly bent in order to allow that carrot cock increasing access to her centre of pleasure Granma fell to her knees on the worn green carpet of the bedroom.

Panting, she looked around the room, from the bed to the window, from the wardrobe to the dressing table. “That looks manageable” she thought to herself and crawled across the room on all fours towards the dresser. She carefully placed her carrot cock on the dresser and placing her palms on the edge of the table she hauled herself upwards and stood with quivering legs catching a glimpse of her now soaked knickers before she pulled them down and stepped out of them.

Then she opened the first draw of the dressing table, the knicker draw, and wedged the spit drenched carrot in the corner and gently but firmly closed the draw to hold it in place. Granma took position at the corner of the dressing table, lifted her right foot and with no little difficulty placed it on the dresser top, with the carrot cock now mere inches from her slick, greased pussy.

Only now she noticed that the picture on the Valentine card, which still lay on the bed was a might too far away and so with a sigh and the thump of her foot falling to the floor she crossed to the bed to retrieve it. In short order she was once again in a position to avail herself of her vegetable phallus and craning forward to see the reflection through the dresser mirror she gingerly lowered her hips and watched as the orange, pink ribboned cock made entrance to her pussy lips.

A soft, low keening escaped Granma’s mouth and this time she definitely heard an accompanying moan from beyond the bedroom wall, but by this time she was too far gone in her delirium and the carrot cock too far ensconced for it to deter her from the imminent pleasure and release she felt building in her. Using two fingers of her left Granma sought out her clitoris between her now swollen lips amongst the soft silken hair and with her right hand, wedged between her right thigh and her chest she dug her nails into the soft yielding flesh of her right breast and began strumming with manic speed across her clit with the left, whilst slowly and deliberately driving her cunt lips around her carrot cock.

The voice beyond the bedroom wall became more insistent and louder, barely keeping time with Granma’s exertions until both the voice and her action fell into rhythm and drove Granma over the edge of her want and she orgasmed, shatteringly and completely and fell forward onto the dresser, hips still quivering as she fucked herself to a waning halt.

Eventually Granma withdrew herself from dresser and the wedged carrot with an audible gasp to stand weak kneed before her reflection in the mirror before she bent forward and kissed the picture of the be-ribboned cock and then slid her lips around the carrot and deliberately bit off an inch or so, which she chewed reflectively.

Granma left the bedroom and walked dreamily across the landing for her assignation with the hot bath that she hoped was still steaming.

As she pushed open the door to the bathroom Granma was startled by a figure leaning across the sink, looking in to the mirror which hung there. At first she thought it was Dad and turned to leave in order to hide her reddening face but then she took in the broad hips, long hair and soft skin and realised that it was female. Forgetting entirely that not only was she naked and that this other person was too, Granma stood in the door way with fists on hips and waited for the figure to turn in order to confront her.

Granma coughed to gain the other’s attention and the mixture of indignation and afterglow which throbbed through her veins proved fortress against the shock of the woman’s next words.

“You’ve fucked my cunt ragged love, you’ll have to give me a minute or…” she paused and raised herself on tip-toes then took hold of the cheeks of her bottom and enquired “you could give in and fuck me here for once.”

Granma’s arms fell to her sides as she walked forward in a trance to stand behind this naked stranger in her bathroom.

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