The following story is a work of fiction involving masturbation and legal-age blood-related adults. If you are offended by such, or reading this type of material is illegal where you are, for whatever reason, please stop reading now.

Going for a drive with Grandpa

It was a few days into the Easter holidays that I would spend with grampa, and while it was too wet for much else, we had gone each day for a drive to a local beauty spot, or to see a friend of his. This morning it was no surprise when Grandpa hollered up the stairs

“Let's go for a drive”

“Is ten minutes OK?” I shouted back.

“sure, but no longer, I'll be in the car, bring a coat for both of us”

I was in Grandpa's bathroom, where I shouldn't be, and I wasn't sure if he knew that when I replied, but a few seconds later I heard the back door close and knew I had a few minutes before I would have to go down to the car.

I liked being with Grandpa, he had an easy charm. As a child I had always wanted to be the one sitting on his lap, being tickled and squeezed and held. Now as a teenager I still wanted his touch. It was strange, to me, that I wanted to be so physically close to him, but this week I had been able to think of little else.

My cock throbbed in my hand and I inhaled deeply the smell of Grandpa's hair cream. The scent was strongly evocative of Grandpa: his calm; his stately demeanour; his old-fashioned ways. I wanted to be closer to him, to know him better, but I didn't know how.

I wanted to cum now, but also I wanted to cum after Grandpa and I had been for a drive, when I had some fresh memories of him. I put my cock away, red and inflamed, the pain made me jump as I pushed it under my waistband. I pulled it out again, looking for something soothing. I spooned out some of Grampa's hair cream on my finger and smeared it around my cock head. It felt so good I put more on my balls and in my pubes before zipping up and running downstairs feeling my hard-on rubbing, slipping around in the pouch of my briefs.

I grabbed two coats from the door as and used them to cover my erection as I got into the car. The engine was running, with opera playing on the radio. I had the coats on my lap and was soon thinking about getting my cock out while sitting beside grampa. Under the coats he wouldn't know that I was playing with my greased-up cock. The thought made my erection almost unbearably hard. I tried to sneak a good look at Grandpa's crotch, and simultaneously to get my zip undone.

It took a bit of work to do it surreptitiously, but my cock did come out, hidden under the coats. I was looking at Grampa's crotch, thinking of what his balls would be like. I had only rubbed it for a short minute when I had to squeeze really hard to try and hold back the cum that had been waiting since I was in the bathroom.

“Michael. Are you busy under there?”

“No Grandpa” I hurried my hands above the coats and felt my cock push two spurts of cum into the lining of grampa's coat “busy at what?”. My second response, made to clarify my innocence only confirmed my guilt.

“Busy playing with your cock, is that it?”

This was suddenly a very difficult situation, and my hesitation didn't help. I blushed.

“We'll be there shortly, just you keep your hands on top of those coats”. There was a sternness in his voice I was not used to.

This was what I had dreaded, but had been trying to bring about, since I arrived. I wanted to be caught. I wanted my grandfather to see my cock, and to catch me playing with it. But now, now that it happened, I was ashamed, beet-red, my heart racing.

We were heading towards one of the woods that we used to walk the dogs in, where we would still walk even without the dogs now. Before we got there Grandpa took an unusual turn and pulled up in the car park of a slightly decrepit country pub. Too early for the pub to be open, the car park was all but empty.

The engine was still running, and the radio. Grandpa unbuckled his seat belt and wound down his window. Saying nothing he reached inside his V-neck sweater and pulled a cigar from the breast pocket of his shirt. A half-minute later the electric cigarette lighter in the car popped out and Grandpa proceeded to light his cigar. The smoke wafting in and out, grandpa's silence.

“I've noticed that you're masturbating a lot Michael”

I was stunned.

“I remember at your age, it was very difficult to get satisfaction. All day and night whacking off... I used to get friends to help me... Do you have any friends like that Michael?”

I had heard of other boys doing this. Hell, we talked about it every day at school, but no one had offered to help me.

“I don't grandpa, no”

“Shall we put those coats in the back?” This wasn't so much a question as he was already lifting them with one hand into the back seat, revealing my now flaccid cock. The foreskin was all bunched behind the exposed head, red, with drying cum all over it. I looked at it and then at him, unsure.

His big hand reached over and squeezed my knee “Shall we go home?”

“Sure Grampa”

He continued to smoke his cigar, apparently not in any hurry to leave, taking in the view. I left my cock out, but he was looking the other way. The opera was nearing its climax. Grandpa's hand reached down to his crotch, scratching in underneath his balls, lifting and pulling them, then up to his zipper. My gaze was fixed. He only moved the zip a centimetre. I looked to his eyes for answers but still he was looking away. I waited, my cock hardening, and a few moments later he pulled the zip down a little more then put his hand on the steering wheel.

My cock was throbbing again. I touched his thigh and kept my hand there. His hand came down to direct mine to the bulge in his trousers. He pushed down gently, my fingers unable to detect the hardness of an erection, but the heat was unmistakable.

I wanted to ask, but Grandpa's eyes only looked away across the fields. I found the top of the zip and slid it down as far as it would go. The swell of his stomach meant the trousers were still tight but I could see he was wearing a pair of woollen long-johns. I hadn't seen any of these in the laundry basket but I had found them in the airing cupboard, thick wool with buttons at the waist and an open fly. I pulled them open a little to see grandpa's pubes, bushy and thick above his still unseen cock. Grampa undid his belt, inhaled and unbuttoned the trousers then pushed himself up in his seat and pulled his trousers down a little, making room for my hand to explore.

I was now leaning into him, my nose near his armpit, breathing deeply the smells I had been exploring earlier in the day. My hand slipped into the long johns, into the heat and the sweat of the forest of pubic hair. I found grandpa's cock and pushed lower to get a grip around his balls, lifting them all gently through the fly of the long johns and into the air, into view.

My urge was to taste, feel, rub myself all over grampa. The cock head was still hidden inside the foreskin and the balls were big and loose inside the scrotum. I tried to get my thumb and forefinger around the base of Gramp's cock and balls but couldn't. I held tight anyway, watching the blood pulse into the growing cock, the foreskin stretching, feeling the pubes on my wrist.

I was struggling without using my hands to get my shoes off, so I could get my trousers off and rub my cock on grampa when Grampa put his arm around me and pushed my head towards his groin. The cock grew with my breath on it,I squeezed it hard and licked tentatively at the end. His hairy wrist rested on my neck.

Then grampa took his cock and started to masturbate, the juicy end of it pushing into my cheek, leaving scented trails around my mouth and stickiness on my ear. His other hand pulled me closer by the waistband of my trousers, accentuating the pressure in my groin, then slid under, between my pants and my skin, into the cleft of my bum. I wriggled, trying to get more of his cock in my mouth while his rough hand squeezed my bum.

The sucking and wriggling lasted a few minutes, grampa's fingers getting close to my hole, grampa's cock leaking pre-cum, but then Grandpa lifted me by the shoulder and pushed me back into my seat, and pushed his cock and balls back into the moist woolly pocket, closing them in with the zip.

Grampa opened his car door and stepped out, readjusting his trousers and tucking in his shirt. In a daze I pulled once or twice on my cock before putting it away too. The nervous energy of the last half hour had left me near senseless.

“Come on Michael, the pub's opened. We'll get a drink and head home”

Wiping at the cum on my face and the smeared mess from my cumming under the coats and leaping, a little unsteadily, from the car I trotted over to catch up with Grampa. He had the coats and gave me mine to put on.

There were already four older men, locals I assumed, sitting at the bar. They greeted us as we entered, and when Grampa tried to order a coke for me, one of them piped up that “Perhaps he should be on the Guinness”, nodding at me and winking “He looks more man than boy”.

I blushed and looked at my feet “Make that two Guinness then barman” said Grampa.

I suddenly had to pee, and couldn't see a sign for the loo, so asked the four at the bar. The most talkative among them said “sure I'll take you there. It's around the back”

I started walking behind him, trying to see the outline of any underwear he might be wearing under his overalls. The overalls were stretched tight by his plentiful bum and the stomach that hung from his barrel chest. He stalled so I was walking beside him as we walked out into the sunshine “What brings you here today young man?”

“I'm not sure sir, we were going out for a walk, but I think we might not now”

“Well, me and walking don't get on so good, and while we should go all the way around to the stalls, I think it's just fine to take a piss here”

The man was fiddling at the fly of his overalls while I stood, waiting, I suppose, to go after him.

“Son, could I ask you to help me out here?”

“Sure sir, how?”

“I'm about to burst with piss and I can't for the life of me get these overalls unzipped. Would you have a look”

I got down on one knee to see, and saw the wet patch in this crotch, I put one hand between his thighs to steady myself, feeling the warm patch of piss and delved into the creases under his tummy to find the zipper. It wasn't stuck, and I pulled it down, slowly, revealing stained white Y-Fronts “Quickly if you can there, just dig in and get it out, before I'm soaked through”. I reached in and got a hold of his cock and balls, still inside the Y-Fronts. Piss was pouring through the cotton over my hands and wrists as I tugged his package out of the overalls. Still on my knees I put my fingers inside the fly of his underpants, got hold of his cock and pulled it out. The piss slowed to a trickle. I held onto his penis. I felt around to get his balls out too. I didn't look up but put one hand down to get my cock out and started to massage it while I took in all the detail of his thick cock, still dripping, and held his balls. “That's magnificent son, there'll be more in a minute”. I stood up in front of him, holding both our cocks and rubbed them together, pushing my erection into his wet pants and he started another stream of piss. It went straight at my cock, soaking my underpants, making my balls hot and wet. I pushed my cock harder into him, squeezing his balls. I could smell the whisky on his breath which was short and uneven. He struggled for words then pulled me by the neck to kiss him which I resisted, then he motioned to his cock.

I got down and opened my mouth to this feast. It wasn't hard, but large and soft. I rubbed it with my tongue and gently bit with my teeth. His hands resting on my shoulders drew me in closer, my nose filled with the smell of piss, my cheeks wet with it. A minute or less and he shuddered, now his cum flowed into my mouth and mine spilt onto the floor.

I got up, feeling good, if a little dizzy, trying to wipe some of the cum and piss from my hands and mouth. The old chap pulled up his zip then took a hold of my cock to squeeze the last cum from it.

We walked back round to the door, and into the pub. Grampa had taken a seat with the other three gentlemen, and a Guinness for me sat at the far end of the bar. “That took a while Michael” said Gramps, notably cheerier for the half-pint he'd so far drunk. “Pull up a stool and get your lips round that Guinness”.

I took a seat between the man whose cum I had just had and the other three and raised the glass to my lips. It smelt and tasted funny, nothing like wine or the beer I had had before. Even after a sip or two I could still taste the cum.

With my coat open the man in overalls pushed his hand onto my crotch. Grampa couldn't see, the other men couldn't see. I was sure they must be able to smell all the piss and cum, but they kept chatting and I tried to join in while this man beside me nonchalantly played with my cock.

The first pint came and went, Grampa ordered a round for us and the other men, variously drinking Guinness or whisky. Talk moved over sport and news, the upcoming village shows that were the social events of the summer, people they knew. After the second pint Grampa stood up to go to the loo and asked for my direction. I turned from my seat and put my cock away, then led Grampa out to the place where I had been playing with cock just half-an-hour earlier.

Grampa stopped before we got round to the loos and pulled down his zip. I watched as he stretched and pulled at this cock. I got my penis out, so hard I couldn't pee, and played with it while I watched Gramps. I shuffled closer to him as the first drops of piss came out of his cock and took it in my hand, but not around the shaft. I wanted his piss on my cock and I made a fist around his bell end, holding his foreskin tight closed. I could feel the pressure building and tried to get my cock closer so he would pee on it but he half-turned away, the stretched foreskin spraying its load over my hand and the ground. I rubbed my cock with the fresh piss and watched as Grampa played a little longer with his. When he put it away I put mine away and he led me back to the door of the pub, popping his head in, but only to say “thank you and goodbye”

Then we headed back to the car. The engine started, the opera came on the radio, and we set off for home again. It was only a little after midday.

I fell asleep briefly in the car and woke only as we pulled into the driveway. Grampa had noticed and said he'd be going for a nap shortly and, if it suited me, I could go and warm his bed.

My underpants and the front of my trousers still wet with the piss from the man in overalls, I stripped off in Grampa's bathroom. I didn't want to wash any of it off. I dug around in the laundry basket to get a pair of Grampa's Y-Fronts and a vest. The Y-Fronts had dried piss on the front and smelt strongly. I pulled my cock and balls through the fly and stretched them up nearly to my armpits, then put the vest on and snuggled into Grampa's bed. His pillow carried the smells of shaving foam and hair cream while the warm smell of piss rose up from my cock and grampa's bed.

It wasn't long before Grampa came up for his nap. He took off his sweater and shoes, then the rest until he was in only long johns. The long johns had their own braces to hold them up which half-hid his nipples. I was watching intently, but said nothing.

When Grampa did get into bed he rolled me over a half-turn and then manoeuvred me so my bum was right on his cock, and my back tight to his hairy chest. He pulled his cock and balls out and tucked them inside the underpants I was wearing. I didn't think we could physically be any closer,

as we both dozed off to sleep.