Date: Wed, 8 Oct 2014 06:46:34 -0700
From: Papa Sport <papa.sport@yahoo.com>
Subject: Grandpa Ira's Farm, Chapter 3

What follows is autobiographical.  And while what happened to me is real,
that does not mean it could or should happen today.  Times have changed;
sexual mores have changed; and what is accepted by society has changed.
And while I think that I have "turned out" okay, the "research" would
suggest that I am an exception, not the rule.  So keep that in mind before
you try to emulate my Grandfather.  If one were to act today as he did
those many years ago, it is likely one would end up in a jail cell.  If you
would like to contact me, I may be reached at papa.sport@yahoo.com


GRANDPA IRA'S FARM by Papa Sport


CHAPTER 3

As I started the fifth grade, things were not good at home.  The steel
strike dragged on into the fall.  My Dad started working part time at a
local gas station to bring in some money.  My Mom helped out by doing house
cleaning, sewing, and laundry for hire for families in our neighborhood.
There were all sorts of court wrangling and things that I did not
understand.  Finally in the early winter, the strike ended, and Dad went
back to work.  What a relief for the family.  My oldest brother had been
worried that he would not be able to continue college, and my middle
brother was in his junior year of high school.  After a very lean
Christmas, calm settled over the family...until the phone rang one January
evening.

My mother answered the call.  I knew something was wrong when she dropped
the receiver and slid into a chair, sobbing.  My father picked up the
phone, and I realized he was talking to Grandpa Ira. Grandma Elsie had just
died of a sudden massive stroke.  My Dad talked to Grandpa for a little
longer, hung up the phone, and hugged my mother for a very long time.  We
made arrangements to go to Chenoa for the funeral.

On a frozen blustery January day, my Grandmother was laid to rest in the
little prairie cemetery on the edge of town.  At the family gathering
afterward, everyone seemed to hover around my Grandfather.  Mostly folks
wanted to know if he planned to keep the farm going; if he thought he'd
move; if he'd put the place up for sale.  I only had the chance to hug him
tightly, not to have any real conversation.  There were too many others
around.  But when we looked each other in the eyes, we both knew how much
we loved each other.  In the meantime, Grandpa made it clear to all that he
planned on continuing the only life he had ever known, farming the fertile
Illinois soil.

As the end of the school year approached, I asked my parents about going to
the farm for the whole summer.  They were unsure, thinking that I would be
"in Grandpa's way".  But I begged and begged, and after a phone call of
reassurance from Grandpa Ira that I would not only "not be in the way", but
that he was looking forward to my help, they agreed.  It was clear to them
that there was some sort of "special" bond between my Grandfather and me.

I arrived at the farm via the Greyhound shortly after school let out for
the summer.  Instead of meeting me with the DeSoto, Grandpa showed up in
his red '54 Chevrolet pickup truck.  "We need to stop at the feed store for
some things." Grandpa muttered as I clambered in.  I tried to be bright and
cheery, but Grandpa seemed remote and melancholy.  After picking up the
supplies at the feed store, we headed out to the farm.  Grandpa said
nothing while I prattled on about school and family.  As soon as we got to
the farm, Grandpa drove the truck to the side of the barn where we
unloaded. I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the house while he put away
the pickup. I walked in and was stunned by the difference in the farm
house.  There were dirty dishes piled in the sink, dirty laundry stacked up
in a basket, and clutter was everywhere.  Grandpa knew everything about
farming, it seemed, and nothing about housekeeping.  Without even going up
to "my" room, I dropped the suitcase, put on one of Grandma's aprons, and
started right in on the dishes.  I had them half finished by the time
Grandpa came in the house.

"Thank you, Sport," he commented.  "I guess I'm not very good at things
around the house."

"That's okay Grandpa, I said.  I'm here now.  I watched Grandma do a lot of
those things.  I can help you out with them."  Grandpa walked over and ran
his fingers through my hair.  "That would be so good if you would."  He
opened his arms and gave me a big hug.  Our mouths opened and tongues
mingled.  Grandpa pulled me tight to him and his hands cupped my buttocks.
One hand slid under the apron string and shorts elastic, and squeezed my
bare bun.  "Later, Sport...later" the old man said, breaking our clinch.
That evening I made a simple meal of hamburgers, canned baked beans, and a
fresh salad.  Grandpa said it was the first "real meal" he had eaten in
quite a while.  He had only been eating TV dinners.

I cleaned up and Grandpa went into the living room to watch the Cardinals'
game.  When I joined him, he was, to my surprise, not under the afghan.  I
walked over to him.  Instead of having me curl up next to him, he told me
to stand in front of him.  Slowly and carefully he undressed me, touching,
fondling, and caressing each square inch of skin as it was exposed.  His
touch was gentle and rough at the same time.  His breath was erratic and
panting.

When he removed my shorts, he did not take down my underpants. Rather, he
had me turn around completely so that he could look at me.  I was still a
boy, but beginning to show signs of becoming an adolescent – the most
notable being the erect penis straining beneath my Jockey's.  My
circumcised glans pushed against the white fabric in clear outline.
Grandpa reached out to grab me around my waist, and pulled the underpants
off of me in the same motion.

Just like last summer, I stood before him naked.  My hard penis stood out
at a right angle from my groin.  It was now about four inches long.  He
slid his right hand under my scrotum as he examined me closely.  "How old
are you now, Sport?" he queried.

"Eleven," I replied, my voice quivering.

As he leaned closer to my groin he commented, "Then this is probably the
last summer you will be hairless down here like you are right now.  I
really like you this way," he said, "so soft, so precious..." his voice
trailed off as my cock filled his mouth.

I closed my eyes and sighed deeply.  I had been looking forward to this all
school year!  The sensations provided by the old man were exquisite.  I
squirmed even more when he sucked my testicles into his maw as well.  I put
my hands on his white haired balding head, and pulled myself in deeper.
Grandpa sucked, licked, and ate me to my first dry orgasm of the summer.

After my breathing returned to normal I pulled my shriveled cock from his
mouth and reached for his groin.  Grandpa, however, steered my hand away.
"Not right now, Sport," he said patting the sofa.  I curled up under his
wiry right arm and watched the rest of the game with him.  He toyed and
played with my body the whole time.  When the game was over, I padded into
the kitchen to pick up my suitcase which lay right where I had dropped it
hours earlier.

I started up the stairs when Grandpa asked "Where are you going?"

"Up to my room," I honestly replied.

Taking the valise from my hands, Grandpa asked "Why don't you sleep down
here?" jerking his head in the direction of his bedroom.  And just like
that, Grandpa and I started sleeping together.

That first night after we were in bed, both naked, I reached over and found
his uncircumcised penis.  He laid out flat on his back and spread his legs,
as though giving me an invitation.  I scooted between his hairy legs, and
promptly devoured his stiffening cock into my mouth, I caressing his hairy
ball sac and massaging his prostate, just as he had done with me. Grandpa
lifted his hips and began fucking my mouth.  I struggled mightily to take
more of him into my mouth and throat.  When I heard Grandpa's familiar
groan, I knew he was about to spurt, and I sucked even harder.  It must
have been a long time since Grandpa had cum, because the volume of his
ejaculate was prodigious. Suddenly my mouth and throat were flooded with
more cum than they had ever experienced.  In spite of my best efforts, I
could not keep up with the torrent.  Even though I swallowed hard, I
started to hack and cough, choking on the flood.  Once at school I remember
I had laughed just as I was drinking my milk, and the milk had come out of
my nose.  The same thing happened now.  My coughing and gagging forced some
of Grandpa's semen up and out of my nostrils.  I was overwhelmed by the
aroma.

Grandpa sat up and pounded my back to make sure I could breathe.  It took a
few minutes, but I returned to normal.  Grandpa got up and got me a towel
to clean myself up with.  Then we both returned to bed.  "Are you okay,
Sport", he asked gently.  "Yeah," I replied.  "I was just surprised by how
much you shot," I said.

"I haven't cum since before your Grandmother died," he said.

"I hope you enjoyed it Grandpa," I replied.

"More than you know, Sport...more than you know."  We were soon both sound
asleep.

It was unusual, but in the morning I woke up before Grandpa.  I went into
the kitchen and donned an apron.  I had made eggs and toast, coffee for
Grandpa, and was finishing up the brown and serve sausages at the stove
when Grandpa suddenly appeared behind me.  I was wearing only the apron and
I felt his hands on my butt. "Oh, hi, Grandpa," I said with a start.  "Are
you ready for some breakfast?"

"Sure, Sport," he answered, taking a seat at the table, all the while
looking at me wistfully.  As I served his food, Grandpa Ira never took his
eyes off of me.  When I sat down to eat, Grandpa was still staring at
me...staring through me, actually.

"Are you okay, Grandpa?" I asked.

"Huh?  Oh...yes.  Sure" he hastily replied, looking down at his plate of
food.  "I was just..."  He paused.  Then he smiled.  "I was just
remembering."

"What?" I inquired.  "What were you remembering?"

"Your Grandmother," he sighed.

"What about Grandma Elsie?" I pushed.

"It was a long time ago, over fifty years.  We were just recently married.
Your mother and none of your aunts had come along yet.  Your Grandmother
really liked to please me...and to tease me.  One morning she was at the
stove...which back then wasn't propane, but wood heated.  She had gotten up
early, just like you, and started the fire, and made breakfast.  And the
only thing she was wearing was an apron...just like you this morning.  I
got so excited we made love right here in the kitchen.  Nine months later,
your aunt Effie was born."

"You really loved Grandma Elsie, didn't you, Grandpa."

"Oh yes...yes I did.  She was one of a kind, the best.  I miss her so."
His voice trailed off as he played with his eggs.

"I saw you, you know," I volunteered.

"You saw me?" he asked puzzled.

"Not just you," I replied.  "I saw both of you.  Just before I went home
last summer.  I saw you and Grandma Elsie making love."

"You did? How?  When?" he quizzed.

I recounted to him the story of the hot summer night, my coming down to
pee, hearing the noise, and watching through the curtain.  "I stood right
over there," I said pointing to the spot.  "I even watched when you..."  My
voice caught, and I grabbed my orange juice.

"When I what?" Grandpa Ira pressed.

"When you said you wanted to `corn hole' her.  She called you a `silly old
man'.  Twice.  I even watched when you put your cock into her...her butt."

Grandpa's eyes grew wide with the realization that I was telling the truth.
"You know, Sport," he confided, "that was the last time I ever..."

"Made love?" I interrupted.

"Like that anyway," Grandpa Ira revealed.  He sighed again and that was the
end of the conversation.  We finished our breakfasts in silence.  Next came
chores and farm work.  Neither of us broached the topic again that day.

Over the next few days, we settled into a pattern.  I did a little less
"farm" work and more "house" work to help Grandpa out.  He appreciated all
I did, and gave me as many orgasms as I could handle.  So much so, I even
started going naked around the house most of the time so that he could play
with me or suck me whenever he wanted...which seemed to be frequently.

So, it took me by surprise then, when during supper a few days later,
Grandpa asked me if there were any girls I liked at
school."Wwwwwweeeeelllllll," I replied, trying to draw out my answer as
long as possible, "there is this one girl..."

"Tell me more," he prodded.

"Her name is Roseanne...Roseanne Molinsky."

"Is she pretty?"

"She okay," I answered honestly.

"Has she grown any boobs yet?"  Grandpa knew the fifth grade pretty well,
because about half the girls had started to fill out, and half had not.

"Yeah, I said.  I guess she has some nice ones."

"Good," he said.  "Tell me more about her."

"Well, she's smart; she wears glasses; and she plays the accordion.  She's
actually pretty good at it."

"Have you asked her out?"

"Grandpa," I protested, "I'm only eleven.  I've never asked a girl out!"  I
pouted for a moment.  "Besides," I said softly "I don't know how."  That
jump started a conversation about how to ask girls out; how to treat girls;
how to respect girls; and even, should it become time, how to gently "dump"
a girl.  Grandpa Ira was a wellspring of knowledge.  Over the rest of the
summer we had several conversations about girls and how to interact with
them.

One hot night about two weeks later as Grandpa and I were getting ready for
bed, I could not help staring at Grandpa's penis.  It was semi erect, and
maybe because I had gotten bigger, it did not look as massive as it had in
the past. We went through our normal routine and got into bed.  It was a
typically hot prairie night as I sucked Grandpa hard.  This time it was his
turn to be surprised as I lifted my head from his crotch.  Holding his cock
in one hand and his balls in the other I looked in his eyes and asked
"Grandpa, would you like to `corn hole' me?"

His stiff cock jumped in my hand, betraying his answer.  "Oh Sport," as he
heaved a huge sigh, "Is that what you would like?"  I looked him right in
the eyes in the dim light and nodded.  "I want you in me...just like you
were in Grandma."

Without saying a word, Grandpa reached into the night stand drawer for the
tube that I had seen his use a year ago with Grandmother.  In the meantime,
I hopped from between his legs and arranged the pillows to go under my
belly, just like Grandma had.  I was just about to lay over them when
Grandpa said "No, not like that.  If we do it that way, I might hurt you."

Instead, he directed me to straddle him while he lay on his back, while he
was partly sitting up against the headboard.  He thoroughly coated both his
cock and my entire ass crack and anus with the ointment – K&Y as it
turned out.  He took his time to work his fingers around my snug portal,
adding copious amounts of the slippery gel.  When I felt the tip of his
longest finger enter me almost without resistance, I thought this would be
easy.  Then his index finger pushed into me as well.  He slowly stroked the
two fingers in and out of my tight asshole.  It was a different, unique
sensation, and I really liked the way it felt.  Then suddenly, the fingers
were gone.  Grandpa next told me exactly what I should do.  He told me I
should squat over him and slowly push down on his firm phallus to the
extent that I felt comfortable.  He left me "in charge" of the whole
operation.  He said if I felt uncomfortable at all, I was to stand up and
it would be over.

I meticulously followed his directions.  I straddled his body and started
to squat.  As I looked back between my legs in the dim light at Grandpa's
penis standing erect from his body, I began to have second thoughts.
Suddenly, he looked as though he had a telephone pole for a penis.  He
reached out and placed his strong hands under each of my buttocks as I
squatted down, and pulled my ass cheeks wide apart.  My anxiety was quelled
when, with his foreskin peeled back, his glans touched me, the single slit
of his snake lining up with the central "eye" surrounded by my puckered
sphincter.  The feel of his erect cock nudging against my anus made me want
to feel all of it buried in my butt.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Grandpa asked.

"Oh yes, Grandpa!  Oh yes."  He held his strong hands under me as I bore
down on his fleshy invader.  "This is pretty nice," I remember thinking as
the water based lubricant help ease the initial penetration.  "It feels a
lot like I'm going to the bathroom."  But little by little my tight anal
ring began to stretch and stretch, far more than it ever had during any
bowel movement.  It started to simultaneously burn and throb. It was then
that Grandpa reminded me of what he called "the most important thing": push
out, push out hard, just like I was taking a dump. So I did, and almost
immediately the pain eased up, the muscular ring opened up, and the purple
helmet of Grandpa's penis pushed past the futile resistance of my clinging
sphincter and lodged firmly in my pre-adolescent butt.  I gasped.  Grandpa
asked if I was okay.  I nodded while biting my lip.  I had decided that I
was going to do this no matter what.

After a couple of minutes' pause during which Grandpa Ira added more lube,
I pushed down again, accepting another inch of my Grandfather's penis into
my bowels.  And so it went.  It took maybe twenty minutes.  But each time I
pushed down, another half inch or inch of Grandpa filled me, until my
scrotum rested on his gray pubic hair.  I had impaled myself on my
Grandpa's prick!  I was full like I never had been.  I felt things I never
had before.  And I was closer to my Grandpa than I had ever been in my
life.  My legs were splayed on either side of Grandpa's torso.  He leaned
forward to kiss me and I wrapped them around his waist.

After a long embrace, Grandpa pushed me back a bit, so that I needed to put
my arms behind me to hold me upright.  Instead of bucking his hips up and
down like I expected he would, Grandpa simply reached forward and softly
lifted my testicles. His long lubricated fingers found the bulge of my
prostate and started rubbing.  I quickly grew hard under his touch. My
breath grew short and I panted.  He lay perfectly still as he stroked my
prostate and played with my genitals while I rode his cock.  The now
familiar feelings began to overtake me and I soon attained my own orgasm
under his touch – the first I ever experienced with a cock up my ass!
It was an experience beyond belief!!  I bucked and ground and squirmed,
moaning all the while.  My motion quickly caused Grandpa's orgasm to follow
mine.  He groaned.  His cum erupted and coated my colon.  Soon it oozed out
around the edges of my no longer virgin anus.  It mixed with the lube and
flowed over his hairy balls and down his ass crack.  I simply sat there
atop him, our chests both heaving as we gasped for air.  I did not move as
I felt his penis soften and pop free.  Both of us took a while to regain
our composure.  I slid forward atop the old man, hugging him tightly.  Our
lips locked and tongues sparred until We fell asleep in each other's arms.

Over the rest of the summer, Grandpa fucked my ass on a number of
occasions.  He took to carrying a tube of lube in his pocket so that he was
always ready.  We did it doggy style in front of the TV.  We did it with me
on my back on the bed and my ass at the edge while he stood on the floor
between my legs. We did it together standing in the outdoor shower.  We
even did it once with me sitting in his lap as we bounced along a remote
farm field road aboard the big red Farmall tractor.  I adored the feeling
of him in me.

Near the end of my farm tenure that summer, Grandpa and I got talking about
my Mom and my aunts.  He and Grandma had five daughters.  My Mom was number
two.  He told me all sorts of stories about their growing up; about how
each of them met their future husbands and got married; about all of his
grandchildren.  I quietly asked him if he had the same kind of
"relationship" with any of his other grandkids that he did with me.  He
just laughed and said I was "special".

So then I get real serious and asked him if he thought what we're doing was
"wrong".

He wrinkled his brow and thought for a bit.  "What is `wrong'", he asked
rhetorically?  "All we have done is love each other.  I know that there a
lot of people that would condemn us for what we do.  Maybe someday society
will say that what we do is okay; maybe that day will never come.  All I
know is, I love you very much.  I treasure the time we spend together.  I'd
never do anything to hurt you.  I loved your Grandmother too.  And people
say that was a wonderful lifetime relationship.  So what's the difference?
In this day and age, it will probably be easier for you to love a woman
your whole life.  But whoever you pick, just love them...love them for
life!"

"Grandpa," I asked, pushing it a little further, "Did you and your Dad ever
do the things that you and I do?"

"Me and my Dad?  No.  Never once.  Not even close.  My Dad was pretty
strict and pretty uptight.  He never talked about sex at all.  I'm
surprised he and my mother ever had enough sex to have me."  He laughed out
loud at his own joke. But then he drew quiet and continued.  "My
grandfather Nelson on the other hand, he taught me to be man.  He and I..."
His voice trailed off and he didn't finish the sentence.  But I knew.
Grandpa Ira and his Grandfather Nelson had been intimate, just as Grandpa
Ira and I had been all summer.

And so the summer of 1960 drew to a close.  I returned to Chicago for the
sixth grade.  Just as Grandpa had predicted, I started sprouting hair "down
there".  I got up the courage to ask Roseanne Molinsky out on a "date".  We
went to a hamburger place on a Saturday afternoon and shared milk shakes.
John Kennedy was elected President that fall with Illinois help and the
nation changed.  By the time the summer of 1961 came into view, it was
already a foregone conclusion that I would spend the summer on the farm.
It would be the last.

When I arrived via Greyhound, it was clear that Grandpa Ira was growing
tired.  He was in his mid- seventies, and farming is hard work.  He allowed
two of the big fields that he normally planted to go fallow that year.  The
farmhouse showed signs of lack of maintenance.  Everywhere things just
seemed unkempt.  At the age of twelve, I pitched in the best I could.

One of the best things to happen that summer, however, occurred shortly
after I arrived one evening when Grandpa was sucking my cock.  I shot off
my cum for the first time!  I came right in his mouth!  It was my first
ejaculation and Grandpa's tongue caught it all.  He was so proud of me.  He
sucked me off often after that.

Of course, he resumed fucking my ass with regularity.  I loved his pumping
me full of his seed.  Near the end of the summer, he invited me to return
the favor "just like his grandpa had done".  So at the age of twelve, I
placed my little pencil dick as deeply as I could in Grandpa's rectum for
the first time.  I came in seconds (milliseconds actually).  But we
repeated this several times over the rest of the summer.  Grandpa seem to
love it as much as I did.

On the last night that I would be with him that summer, Grandpa told me
that he thought that he was getting too old, and that the time had come to
sell the farm.  I was heartbroken.  I loved the place as much as I loved
him.  He said that there was a time and a place for everything, and that he
just couldn't do it anymore.  Grandpa said he had found a buyer willing to
pay what he wanted, and that the proceeds would let him be comfortable for
the rest of his life.  I didn't want to agree, but I knew he was right.
That fall after harvest, he sold the farm and bought a small neat house in
town.

Without helping out on the farm as a reason to go, it was harder to
convince my folks to let me spent summers with Grandpa.  But convince them
I did.  Every summer I would trundle off to central Illinois to join my
Grandpa.  I would cook and clean for the old man.  I would mow the lawn and
weed the flower beds and water the garden.  We would take walks and talk
and play cards, and of course, watch the Cardinals.  He kept track of my
progress with Roseanne, which by the way, totally flamed out when she went
off to Catholic high school and I went to public high school.

Grandpa and I talked about everything.  There were no secrets between us.
He told me all about how he and Grandma Elsie had met, how he had courted
her, how she came into their marriage a virgin, how he gradually introduced
her to every sort of sex, and how he always tried to make sure that she
enjoyed it all.  So one day when I asked Grandpa to "explain" women to me,
he just roared with laughter.  "Sport," he said, "you don't explain
women...you just love `em!"  I never forgot that.

And of course, we had sex.  I was a teenager, and horny as hell.  Grandpa
was getting on in years, and less able to perform.  But at night, he still
loved to slowly fellate me, taking his time to suck my balls, lick my anus,
and swallow as much of my voluminous semen as he could.  More and more
rarely did he manage to be able to get hard and fuck my ass, and so I
treasured every moment he was lodged in my bowels.  I only fucked his ass
when he invited me, which became more and more infrequently.

When I turned sixteen, I got my driver's license.  Since my parents now
owned two cars I was able to "swipe" a car occasionally on a weekend to
drive down and be with Grandpa.  He was always elated to see me and we made
the most of our time together.

I was eighteen when I graduated High School.  Grandpa made it a point to
come up to Chicago for my graduation.  He was so proud.  He was now eighty
years old, and moved slowly, the product of a lifetime of physical labor on
the farm.  The evening after the ceremony, my parents threw a big party
attended by lots of my friends and classmates.  Grandpa was hit with all of
them.  He was sharp, witty, and just fun to be around.  When a bunch of us
decided to go out to celebrate, we even asked him to join us.  He just
smiled wryly and told us to go and have fun.

I got home about one in the morning.  Everyone was in bed, so I decided to
stop by the guest room to see if Grandpa was awake so that I could say good
night.  The light was on, so I rapped softly.  Not getting an answer, I
opened the door a crack.  Grandpa appeared to have fallen asleep in the
easy chair.  I walked over, hoping to help him get into bed.  But there was
no rousing him.  He was dead.  Later we found it had been a heart attack
while sitting in the chair.

After his funeral back in Chenoa, he was buried next to my Grandmother.
When his will was read, each of his five daughters got an equal share of
Grandpa's estate, with one exception.  Grandpa had set aside a sum of money
to pay for my college education so that I "would never need to break my
back working on a farm".

For the longest time, I did not date.  In college and after, I explored
going out with guys, but, ultimately, was not really interested in other
men.  Finally, after many years, in my early thirties I met a wonderful
woman.  We dated, fell in love, and married.  We still are.  No matter what
has happened between us, I have always remembered my Grandfather's dictum:
"just love `em!"  Together, my wife and I have two daughters.  Although
both my daughters are married, neither have had any children yet.  Perhaps,
if I get lucky, one of them will give me...a grandson.