Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2011 03:11:31 +0100 (BST)
From: Michael Hunter <greycloudsummers@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Getting Grandpa to Bed

The rain was battering the windows and I didn't much want to get out of
bed. I'd heard Grampa chuntering around since early in the morning and he
didn't sound to be in a very good mood. He'd been frustrated the day
before. We were waiting for a visitor and Gramps had had me tidying the
house, his bedroom, the guest room and the bathroom, while he put his
efforts into sitting in the sun room, smoking a cigar. When eventually a
phone call came saying there would be no visitor he was less than happy and
spent the best part of the evening getting slowly drunk on red wine with
opera playing on the stereo. When i was readying for bed I found him
slumped, asleep in his armchair. He was snoring and had a hand down his
trousers. It seemed funny. I tidied up around him, turning to watch when he
grunted and re-arranged himself. His trouser button was undone, I guessed
for easier access. I took his wine glass, almost empty, and drained the
last of it. The stereo had gone quiet but I turned it on at a low volume,
and started to take off his shoes hoping he might wake and get to bed under
his own steam. He shuffled and snorted, letting out a couple of half-words
but showing no sign of full consciousness.

I put his shoes to the side. I'd be asked to polish them the next day. The
scent of old warm leather caught me off guard. I sniffed at Grampa's
socks. Not unpleasant. Still no sign of his waking.

I took his arm and pulled his hand out from his trousers asking quietly if
he would wake up, telling him it was time for bed. No response. Carefully I
did up his trouser button and waited.

Having sniffed his socks I was curious about his crotch. I smelt the hand
that had been down there and there was a hint of the deep smells of a
man. I moved my nose to the folds between his legs where the notes were
stronger. He wore long formal shorts like suit trousers to the knee. Made
of wool he washed them rarely and here were scents of cigars, sweat, urine
mixed in a way that was recognisably him. Fascinatingly him. I held his
knee and called his name. No response. I pushed my hand under his shorts
and a few inches up his thigh, all the while watching his face for signs of
his waking. An inch further and I found the end of his mid-way Jockeys. I
knew he wore these as I'd hung them out to dry in all their 44" glory
earlier in the day. Here they were on the man. I pushed my hand up another
few inches, under the Jockeys. The hair on his legs got bushier, denser as
I pushed further up. It was hotter, almost damp. My fingers got caught in
the folds of cotton and scrotum, or maybe foreskin, I couldn't tell. Fuck,
I was on my knees, touching Grampa's cock. I had a huge hard-on.

I slipped my hand out slowly, committing to memory each moment I was
touching him. The opera on the stereo broke in applause between acts. I
backed off. Grampa twitched, rearranged himself and returned to a gentle
snore. I poured more wine into the glass and had a sip. Then I got back on
my knees and, like a thief, undid the button on his shorts and slowly, link
by link, pulled down his zip. The waistband of his Jockeys was revealed,
this white cotton now the only thing between me and Gramps penis. Still,
his shorts obscured the opening of the Y-Front. I moved around and tucked
my hand under the waistband, into the thicket of grey pubic hair. I really
wanted to touch that cock, to see what I was touching but as far as I could
get my hand I couldn't tell what I was rubbing up against.

I slid my hand the other way, up under his vest, through the forest of
stomach hair, trying to get to his chest where it was thickest, I couldn't
get to his nipples that I might give them a pinch and see what
happened. With my other hand I felt his penis through the trousers, soft
and hot. Damn. If this wasn't my Grandfather, if this was a gay man I'd be
gay, or wanting to be gay with him. I was going to have to masturbate, and
soon, but I'd have to zip up Grampa first.

I did the zip and returned Gramp's hand to its previous position, tucked
into his trousers. I took the glass of wine, went to get a cigarette and
headed out to the garden. I took a leak on the lawn. Thinking about how to
get my hands on that big soft cock and make it hard. The cigarette was soon
finished, the wine glass empty again. I went back to admire this sleeping
beauty.

Kneeling before him I started touching him, figuring if he woke up I could
say that was my intention, to wake him. I stroked his calves, felt the
insides of his thighs, quietly saying his name, saying it was time for
bed. I rubbed his belly and gently massaged his breasts, I ran my fingers
around his ears and brushed his cheek, put a finger to his lips and felt
his breath, heavy with wine and cigars on my cheek. I wanted to rub my cock
on his face and spunk all over his ass. I wanted to put him on his knees
and fuck him like a dog, but as midnight approached I'd have to get him to
his bed or face the consequences in the morning. The three empty wine
bottles suggested this might be a struggle, but in his room I could "help"
undress him.

With one hand rubbing his penis, and the other rubbing a nipple I whispered
his name. Rubbing his nipple harder, gently pinching it seemed to send
blood to his penis. The outline of his nipple and the outline of his prick
got more pronounced. I had noticed his big nipples in the summer when he
wore his shirt without a vest. It hadn't occurred to me then that men had
sensitive nipples but squeezing it was doing the trick for his cock. The
cock was now filling out a fold, swelling in its beauty, and fascination
for me. I squeezed harder on his nipple and Grampa moved his hips and
shoulders. I moved my hand to his shoulder "Leslie" there was a harrumph
but still sleep reigned. I returned to my manipulations, stronger this
time, fondling, excited, I wanted him to stand up so I could see how his
cock looked. I squeezed again, and a little louder, "Leslie". His head
shook and eyes opened, he pulled his hands to the arms of his wingback
chair.

Mumbled and brusque "what are you doing, what time is it?"

"Grandpa it's midnight, time for you to get to bed"

He made to get up, and did so quickly but was instantly wobbling. I stepped
in and put an arm under his, held him front and back, making sure to
squeeze his breast, and get a good handful of his portly side. "Come, I'll
walk you to your room". Disappointingly I couldn't see the fly of his
trousers, but I had my hands, and arms, full, my head by his chest. There
were grunts as we started to shuffle, his weight heavy on my shoulder we
made our way down the corridor.

In the dim light of his room I turned him to sit on his bed but he almost
fell forward. I caught him, held him up but he was actively trying to bend
down and mumbling all the while. Then I remembered his bed pan. Maybe that
was it. With a hand on his chest I reached under the bed and pulled it out,
the old piss still in it sloshing over my hand and some on the floor. I
felt my arousal leap a level. Gramps was trying to stand again and fumbling
with his trousers. As he pushed himself up on my shoulder I yanked down his
zip then with both hands held the pot as he tugged at his pants. He was
already pissing, a patch on his Jockeys getting bigger. I put the pot down
and tugged down his pants. His cock, veiny, fat, swung out: piss on my
face. Fuck, I half stood up, getting more of it on my front then took his
penis and pointed it at the pot. Grampa leant his full weight on me sighing
and muttering. I had both hands on Grampa's cock, one around the shaft,
squeezing then releasing the last of the piss onto my other hand, rubbing
it into his balls. He pushed himself away and I released his cock to get
him onto the bed, bothering him by undoing his shirt buttons "Come on
Grandpa, let's get this shirt off then you can sleep... And the vest,
Gramps, arms up" And with that I let him slump back onto the bed. His wet
pants still around his thighs and trousers, wet too, around his ankles.

If I could have had the photos developed I would have gone to get a camera
but this image I'd have to fix in my mind. The snoring started. I knelt
down to take off his socks and buried my face in his hot wet crotch. That
smell, those white pubes glistening. His cock still half-aroused. I
couldn't see his face for his hairy belly in the way but the snoring
continued as I licked and sucked hungrily experiencing every inch. What if
it ended now? I must get more, get it all. Soon I had his socks off,
trousers and pants. I lifted his legs up onto the bed and rolled him onto
his side. I could even claim I had to sleep in his room in case he was
unwell in the night. My cock was so hard in my pants I had to use it. I
stripped naked, folding my clothes in a pile by the door and wrapping
Grampa's piss wet pants in mine: my souvenir.

I slipped inside his bed behind him, pulling the covers up and held him as
close as I dared, as close as I could, my chest against his hairy back,
sliding an arm under his neck, wrapping my legs into him. my cock found
warmth and wetness between his thighs while my hand fumbled trying to get a
grip of his cock. I wanted it as hard as mine while it was still wet. I
might have an hour, perhaps more. What if he woke up with me in the bed?
Shit! I even had a pot of his piss to play with. No girl had ever given me
this much pleasure sober, or drunk. I ground my cock inbetween Gramps'
thighs. I was going to cum for sure. I'd cum twice easily. I wanted this
one on his cock. Carefully I untangled myself and climbed over him,
manoeuvring our cocks so I could rub them together. Humping against him. My
cock had been leaking since forever and now I was going to shoot a load
right in among Gramps' pubes. The sweat and precum and piss made it slippy,
loose, hot. My foreskin back so tight, I alternated holding our cocks and
just forcing mine up against his, holding his balls and then I couldn't
stop. Fuck. "oh fuck" whispering "too hot, Grampa, you are too hot" and
then I shot right in there, rubbing it around in heaven, rubbing it into
his balls, getting my finger under his foreskin and oh...

I took my cummy hand and squeezed at Grampa's nipple, then ran it through
his brylcreemed hair. He snorted but now I was sure he wasn't going to wake
up. I reached around and wiped my thick cum around his arsehole. Climbing
over him again, hungry to fuck I held my cock, still hard, and rubbed it up
and down his bum crack, looking for the hole. I could, I realised, reach
behind me and dip my hand into the pot of warm piss. I rubbed it into my
pubes and the pubes around Grampa's hole. Finding his back door and putting
my cock up against it I started to grind. Grampa's snoring had changed a
little, almost a groan as he exhaled. I figured there was no point in
stopping and ground a little harder. Jeez. I had slipped inside him. I
pulled it out. This would be fucking a man. My cock wanted back in and it
led the way. I reached around to hold his cock. My head slipped in. So
hot. I kissed his shoulders and inhaled his scents from his hair, from his
armpit. His cock pulsed in my hand and I rubbed my cum into his balls,
exploring under his long loose foreskin with my thumb. With every movement
of my hips I felt his hairy arse against me, his hairy back against my
smooth stomach. With every other movement my cock went a little further,
his arse and his penis got a little fuller. I couldn't help but tell him,
whisper to him, "Leslie, I'm gunna push it right up you. Your boy is
fucking your arse". And soon I was there, in and out, right to the hilt and
when it popped out it went straight back in again. I moved position, my
torso above him I could see his face. My cock going in and out as he
snorted and groaned. I planted a kiss on his cheek, the touch of his
stubble as big a sensation as any of this symphony of fucking wonder. My
hand was now holding a fully hard Grandpa cock, as fat as mine and hard as
mine, the skin loose, the balls bigger and heavier. I should suck him off
now or lose the chance. I pushed my cock as deep as I could and held it
there, the hair and sweat all that separated us.

Getting over to the other side of him and rubbing my cock all across his
hairy thighs then sliding down to bury my face in among the piss and sweat
and my cum that covered his cock and balls. So fucking hot. I got my tongue
in around his cockhead, it tasted of everything I wanted from him. Moving
from his balls to his cock and back again, my hands tugging at his chest
hair, my cock grinding in around his ankles. Grampa moved a little, and let
out a real long groan, a hand found and rested on my neck. I sucked and
tongued and bit and squeezed and here it came, the tension, the short
breaths, the shuddering hips and the cum, his cum shooting right in my
mouth I swallowed the first then caught some in my hand to rub on my cock
then sucked again as his body jerked and he rolled onto his back. I buried
my face there, filling my lungs with his smells, my mouth with his
softening cock, my hands with his hairy balls as slowly the snoring
returned.

I had to cum again but I couldn't get to his hole so I straddled him,
holding his balls and mine together, his cock and mine together and gave
just a few squeezes before my cum shot out across his hairy chest. I let
myself gently down on top of him. All pretense gone, I loved this sleeping
Santa. I rubbed my softening cock against his, our cum mixing for a few
minutes longer before I had to get up. Should I sleep with him? What will
he think in the morning if I do? What will he think if I don't! I couldn't
leave him like this, all cummy.

I went to the bathroom to get a couple of warm flannels and returned to the
scene. Grampa's cheeks were rosy, he looked like a big cute hairy cupid. I
wiped the cum from his chest, and from in around his crotch, squeezing
between his thighs to get at his bum. It was this that roused him half out
of his slumber

"eh. what's this. What's this?" His voice was still quiet but stern though
he didn't move more than his arms.

"Grandpa I came to check, don't worry, you had a dream. You need to
sleep. Sleep well Grandpa. I love you." I pulled the covers over him and
kissed him on the cheek. "I'll empty your pot"

"Thanks... night" And he was snoring again before I'd left the room.

In the bathroom I stood in the bath and poured Grampa's piss over my cock,
pulled on his damp Jockeys, soaking up more piss, and went, very happy to
my bed