Mrs Cook, gran's friend, lived in a small cottage in rural Glamorgan, Wales. As the cottage was so small, gran and I had to share a bed - a big, old fashioned brass affair. Of course, when I first found out about the sleeping arrangements, I was a bit shocked and nervous. As it turned out, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
When I was in my mid-teens, about forty five years ago, I spent a week on holiday with my gran, visiting an old childhood friend of hers.
Mrs Cook, gran's friend, lived in a small cottage in rural Glamorgan, Wales. Water had to be drawn from a pump outside the cottage. Needless to say, toilet facilities were pretty basic. She kept the house nice and warm during the day with a red-hot coal fire but it could get pretty chilly at night. As the cottage was so small, gran and I had to share a bed - a big, old fashioned brass affair. It was also very practical because, being townies, we weren't used to the cold and could benefit from the shared warmth. Of course, when I first found out about the sleeping arrangements, I was a bit shocked and nervous. As it turned out, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Gran was just about 65 years old. Of course, she had grey hair and wrinkled face and hands - women of gran's generation hadn't had the benefit of moisturising creams and all the anti-ageing paraphernalia that modern women have. She was about five foot nothing and a bit on the plump side, but it was obvious she'd been a good looker in her day. She lived in the same house as me - having two rooms for herself and her second husband, while the rest of us - me, my brother, my mum and my dad had the rest. She always dressed in a simple floral dress, usually with a pinafore - not like a lacy maid's one or anything - just a simple everyday thing like most ordinary, working class women of her age wore at that time. From the washing line, I knew that she wore a hefty bra, a girdle cum corset with six stout suspenders, stockings, a pink full slip and big pink bloomers. Actually, from the days of my earliest sexual stirrings, I'd often managed to steer myself into a position where I could get a glimpse up her dress at that slip and those bloomers. There was never any real attraction to gran as a woman - just to the forbidden sight of her underwear.
So, back to Wales. On our first night, gran let me get ready and into bed before she came upstairs. I turned over, with my back to her, while she undressed, got into her nightie and into bed. We snuggled in, back to back, and soon we were warm enough to drop off to sleep. Sometime later, gran woke me up and told me to turn over. While asleep, I'd turned and was snuggled up to her spoon-fashion. In my sleepy condition, I was vaguely aware that my cock was a little bit stiff. Later on again, the same thing happened and, this time, I was acutely aware that my cock was distinctly rampant.
Embarrassed, I turned over. I thought about this all the next day and remembered all those times sneeking a peek up gran's dress. To my surprise, I gradually got used to the idea that, for one reason or another, gran actually turned me on. That night, I again went off to bed first but, before gran came up, I strategically angled a small bedside mirror so that I would be able to sneek a look at her getting undressed. It worked like a charm. I had to strain my eyes a bit to see, but I caught a glimpse of her taking off those wonderous bloomers and undoing those stout suspenders. I figured I would find somewhere the next day - perhaps the nearby hedgerow - to go and have a good wank at what I'd managed to see. But events were to overtake me.
A few hours into the night, gran woke me because I'd turned again. My hard-on was immense and she could obviously feel it pressing into her. I was very embarrassed and said sorry, and that I'd obviously been dreaming. Then gran surprised the heck out of me by saying, "Well, if this is going to keep on happening, we're never going to get any decent sleep." With that, she reached down and took my stiff cock in her hand and started to rub it gently. The feeling was so intense that I couldn't help but move my hand onto her fulsome boobs. Through her cotton nightie, I could feel her nipples flushing up and getting firmer. I'd had no meaningful sexual experience up to then, so I had no idea what to do, but gran was the perfect guide. Without letting go of my cock once, and with no break in the rhythm, she helped me find my way from her breasts, over her tummy, along her thigh, under the hem of her nightie and back up again to her lightly furred mound. I could feel the little dimple that marked the top of her slit - a natural place for the tip of my finger to nestle in. Each time I moved my finger down there, she responded in the way she handled my cock, sending extra shivers of ecstacy through me. I got the message and soon I'd discovered that sweet little pebble-sized spot that seemed to give her the same feelings she was giving me.
After a while, when we had both become comfortable with what was happening - when we were both relaxing into the situation, she pulled me over so that I was lying on top of her. She'd spread her legs and I found that I fitted between them quite comfortably. I knew enough to know what was about to happen and gran said to me, "You know what's going on here don't you" I croaked back, "Yes gran." And she said, "If you're happy to do this, then I'm happy too. But you must promise that you will never tell anyone about this." "I promise.", I said. And then we did it - and it was the most wonderful experience. I shot string after string of my youthful juice into her womb as her muscles pulsated around my cock. That was the way we made sure, for the rest of the week, that we kept warm and got a really good night's sleep - every night!
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