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.
Whisky & Cigars with Grandpa
It had been Christmas when we discussed my coming to stay at my grandparents' home for the summer. Grandma was going to visit relatives in Australia and Grandpa would look after me. I had been keen to point out that I would not be in need of looking after. I didn't realise quite how things would work out.
In January Grandpa had a stroke. A small stroke said the doctors, and so it seemed. His recovery was good, no loss of mobility, though at 75, his mobility was already a bit limited, and his energy was a little lower and he slept more through the day. By the summer life had returned pretty much to normal. My intentions of taking a summer job though were changed, as there would be much more to do to support Grandpa's new slower pace of life, and the family consensus was that I should be in the house, or close by, most of the time. There was a week at the start of my stay while Granny was still there. Long enough to teach me the workings of the washing machine, Grandpa's daily routines of meals and pills and naps, details of doctors and friends I might need to call on, the ins and outs of the car. Grandpa himself thought this preparation a little too much, but played along. Me? I was keen to do my bit, to give Granny a holiday and spend some time with Grampa.
We three drove to the airport and waved Granny goodbye. With getting to grips with the house, I hadn't really noticed any difference in Gramps. Granny had, on her final morning, listed a few of the changes she had noticed. If he was allowed to, he would stay up too late. His body clock didn't seem to be so well adjusted, and if he wasn't woken from his naps he could sleep through the afternoon and evening. Also he didn't seem to notice how much he drank, and this could be a worry if he drank too much and fell. Third, and perhaps a combination of the other two, he occasionally wet himself. Most often in his bed, but sometimes during the afternoon if he chose not to have a nap, particularly if he had a drink after lunch, or a cigar. Her assessment of this was that it just meant a lot more laundry, and that I should check his trousers, the seat cushion, and his bed and make sure that they were laundered and or dried with least said about it the better.
Now while she was telling me this, and I pictured my grandfather, a tall man, solid with broad shoulders, who always stood proud even though he was humble, and I pictured him damp with piss, I got a noticeable erection. Aged 17 and still very confused about these things, I tried to put it to the back of my mind: Think no more about it and it will be no more.
Grandpa snoozed on the way back from the airport. It was a three hour journey over mainly gentle country roads with a hot but pleasant sun. An hour into the journey I pulled over for a rest break. Grandpa awoke a minute or two after I stopped and as he woke he moved his hands from his lap, revealing a large-ish wet patch in his trousers.
“Jeez, I've got to take a piss!”
Grandpa opened his door and got out onto the verge. I got out of my side and walked round, feeling my erection return at the thought of Grandpa's hot piss, his wet pants. Still, I was ashamed of my curiosity, stopping short of being able to see his cock I could see a splash or two of urine hitting the dried mud: Splash, dribble... Splash, dribble...
“This damned cock doesn't work like it used to”
Grandma had warned me about the language too. Sometimes it could be a little coarse.
“Here, grandpa, granny said she packed an emergency bag in the boot. I'll dig it out”
The bag had a few days of grampa's medical supplies along with a towel, and a loo roll, spare Y-fronts, 44 inch waist and a vest, 46 inch chest. No trousers though.
Grampa seemed to still be trying to pee while I unfolded the towel to cover the car seat, and he was still at it when I was done, .
“Grampa, we should get you out of those wet trousers and underpants and into these clean Y's. I'd lend you my trousers, but I think we'd struggle to get your 44 inches into my 30...”
He chuckled and turned round “help me off with these shoes”. I was pleased that there was no shame in his voice. If he was embarrassed I would have felt awful for him.
I unlaced and held his shoes as he stepped out of them, then he unbuttoned his trousers, sliped off his braces, and stepped out of them too. His cock hung out of his underpants, it twitched. Mine twitched. I wanted to see every detail of his penis, the veins, the foreskin, the rest that was still hidden, but I looked instead at his face “I'll swap you these Y's for those”, indicating his wet pants with my eyes, stealing another glimpse. And then his balls, and the dense hairiness of his crotch revealed in front of me. I bent down to pick up the wet briefs, heavy and yellow with piss and put them with the trousers. “Lift a leg”, I pulled the dry pants over one foot then the other, and pulled them all the way up, his leg hair tickling my wrists..
The underpants I put on weren't the same brand as the ones I took off, and didn't fit so well around the legs. As he got back into the car his balls fell out, swinging low and hairy. I hoped they'd still be on view when I got into the car.
I picked up the wet trousers and the wet pants and made to put them in the boot. Pausing with the boot open, I tugged down my trousers and pants and rubbed my cock with grampa's piss, rubbed my pubes, my new pubes with grandpa's old pissed on pants. I sniffed them. I had never felt my cock so full, so hard and big. Pulling my trousers up again I had to tuck my erection into the waistband to hide it. I felt sure I would come if I touched it again.
Back in the car and Grandpa said to put my foot down and we'd be back in time for a cigar and whiskey at 3pm. He was right. He had never offered me alcohol, let alone a cigar, and I wasn't sure if he had just offered, but again my cock throbbed.
“Have you smoked a cigar son?”
“Well, we'll have two of the best today. You make the coffee, I'll pour the Whiskey”
Those were his last words until we neared home. He dozed off again and I stole glances at his underpants. The Y-front was open a crack and the forest of greying pubes was poking though. Even though it felt wrong to be so aroused in the presence of my grandfather, I put my hand down my trousers and held my cock tight, squeezing. In his sleep he did the same, scratching and pulling at his balls outside his pants. When we got home I would have to climb into his wet pants and pull myself off.
He came round with a snort. “Ah, Drumloan, nearly there. We could call in on Colm if I wasn't only half-dressed”
“Ach, I'll have him over later in the week. You'll enjoy his company”.
Minutes later and we were back, and into the kitchen. Grandpa flicked the switch on the kettle, reminded me to bring the cream and not the milk and headed out to the pagoda. The pagoda was his place, particularly on sunny days. I had forgotten his wet clothes, and popped out to get them, on my way back seeing grampa heading across the grass with his balls hanging out of his pants, me with his wet pants in my hand. If I was quick, I could get this load out. I prepared the coffee and ran up the stairs, two at a time and into Grampa's bedroom. Kicking off my shoes and dropping my trousers I wanted to cover myself with the piss on his pants. I wanted to piss in them too, to cum in them, to feel the hot piss as it flowed from his cock. To feel in on my cock.
“Michael!” A shout from the kitchen, then a few footsteps on the stairs “What's going on with this coffee?” my heart was thumping, cock in hand, in his bedroom
“I'm just changing into some shorts and I'll be out”
“Would you bring my dressing gown from the bathroom when you come?”
“Sure Grampa, two minutes” The footsteps went down the stairs again and out to the garden.
A close call. From the window I could see Grampa was already in the dressing gown that lived in the pagoda. Why did he want the other? Strange. Into the bathroom, holding my cock in the damp pants, and there was the dirty laundry basket. I couldn't wear the wet ones, they would wet my shorts, but I could put on some of his other dirty pants. First, I had to have this wank while I had the freshly wet pants. My cock felt like it would explode as I wrapped up my balls and my cock, squeezing through the folds of damp cotton and I jerked it, pulling more dirty pants from the basket and sniffing them, the scent drove my balls into spasm, cum pulsing through my cock and into the pants it was wrapped in. I squeezed once and twice more, as much to wipe more piss onto my cock as to push the cum out of it. I was breathing quickly as I pulled on two dirty pairs of grampa's pants and ran to my room to get some shorts on that would hide this arrangement. Move my shoes, get the bathrobe, down the stairs, catch a breath, coffee on the tray and out.
The pagoda was a large round shed, that faced North to the house, and South to a secluded part of the garden. It housed a radio, a drinks cabinet, a day bed, Grampa's cigars and a dressing gown. I went through and out the other side to find Grandpa setting out a chair for me. This really was Grampa's space. As a child it had been made clear to me that when my grandfather was in the pagoda, he was not to be disturbed.
There were roses in bloom and a small well-kept lawn. The vista over the rosebushes and dense shrubs to the distant woods was easy on the eye. I put the coffee tray down on the table beside Grandpa's chair and offered him the dressing gown. “Sure Michael that's for you to wear while you're out here. Hang your clothes in the pagoda” I went in and undressed quickly, folding his big dirty pants inside my shorts, and put on the dressing gown. It was fine blue silk and did little to hide my erection which I attempted to strap out of the way under the waistband.
I went out into the sunshine again and took my seat on the deck. Grampa had poured the coffee which sat on the table alongside two cigars and a bottle of whiskey. I could see my erection plainly through the silk, and a tiny damp spot where I was leaking cum. I covered it as best I could with my hand as Grampa suggested we start with the whiskey, a single malt from Islay. He poured me a wee dram and himself a much stiffer measure, passed me my glass “slainté” I sipped and felt fire running down my throat, trying not to cough. “slainté” I replied.
Grampa then cut the ends of the two cigars and handed me one. “The smoke only stays in your mouth. Taste it, and blow it out. Do not inhale it” I had never really thought about tasting smoke, though I liked the way it smelt. It was one of Grandpa's smells, along with soap and hair cream, and as of today, fresh piss. “First though, you should discover the taste of the tobacco. If you get your lips and teeth around it, and let your tongue discover it. You'll need to get it a little wet in your mouth to really start to appreciate the flavours of the tobacco”.
The sip of whiskey was now racing through my body, awakening parts of me I hadn't known existed, and after a few minutes the tobacco made me lean back in my chair while my head gently spun. The sun warmed everything and my erection had subsided. This was bliss.
Grampa had lit his cigar and was pouring himself another whiskey, filling my glass while he was at it. “We won't light your cigar just yet, but you should keep on sucking and tasting, and here, have another wee dram” he finished pouring and reclined into his seat.
When I reached down for my glass I noticed Grampa's gown was open, totally open, his chest hair, the hair on his belly, the forest around his cock and balls, his legs, all on display. He sipped on his whisky, and closed his eyes to the sun. I watched intently as occasionally he would lift the cigar to his mouth and make streams and rivers of smoke rise up, the scent wafting over me and filling my cock with blood. It throbbed again under the silk.
I needed to cum again. This was not too strange, masturbating several times in a day. I had been collecting magazines like 40+ of busty older women. Their vaginas looked well used, stretched apart by their fingers, tits often large and sagging over their bellies. I had also found a few magazines called Health & Efficiency. They were magazines promoting naturism, with women and men of all ages. I thought I'd wait for Grandpa to fall asleep then cum in the dirty pants in the pagoda. I held my cock down with the whisky glass and chewed on the cigar, eyes closed.
I must have been making quiet moans, my regular fantasies of older women mixing with the ejaculation I had had in the bathroom, Grampa's piss. “Michael” I jumped. “You are making some strange noises over there. What are you thinking” Instantly my cheeks flushed red and I looked down, seeing the dark wet patch on the dressing gown that indicated the end of my cock. It could have been spilt whiskey but I think it was cum, leaking out.
“Um nothing. Were you asleep?”
“I must have been, yes, or dozing”
“Well, if you are going to spill whisky on that silk dressing gown maybe you should take it off” I blushed even harder “Look, there's no need for pride here. Is that an erection you're hiding?”
He stood up and went into the pagoda, returning with two magazines, one he handed to me. I hadn't seen one like this before. “Here, if it makes you feel better I need to do this too” He finished his drink as he sat down and opened the magazine. He started to flick through the pictures of women and men, putting one hand down to his crotch, pulling up his balls and stretching the scrotum. “Do you know how to do this Michael? Masturbation” I was sitting frozen
“Grampa, I didn't think I was supposed to...”
“Ach, they fill you full of rubbish at school. I've discovered that if you like doing it, there's no good reason not to” his hand moved from his balls to his cock. Held tight around the base, his cock started to rise. He waggled it over his tummy and legs. I had a magazine in one hand and the other inside the dressing gown, but my eyes were glued to grampa's cock. It got bigger and bigger, the head still hidden inside the foreskin. “Michael, you look like you've never seen a cock before”
“Um, sorry Grampa, I've just never quite known what to do” I opened the dressing gown, letting my cock out into the sun. It stood straight up. Grampa looked at it intently.
“You have a nice one there Michael. Nothing to be ashamed of”
Grampa's eyes on my cock were as powerful as the sensation of his wet pants and I could feel myself cumming instantly. I tried to hold it back and pulled down tight at the bottom of the shaft, letting out a groan as my balls pumped a streak of thin white cum out of my cock onto my tummy. I fell back, defeated and ashamed while grampa looked on. He sat forward and leant over, wiping up my cum with his hand and inspecting it closely. “Do you always ejaculate so quickly” I didn't know the correct answer to this, but answered anyway
“Well, I think we'll have to work on that. It's much better when it takes a while”. He lay back into his seat and started pulling at his cock and balls with both hands. He was rubbing my cum around his cock head as he exposed it from its fleshy sheath, his other hand stretched his scrotum til it was tight and shiny around his balls. His eyes were closed now but mine were wide open. I couldn't leave my cock alone and started masturbating again while I watched Grampa start to move his hips slowly in rhythm with his rubbing and pulling. A shine of sweat covered his chest and belly and with one hand on his cock the other moved up to his nipples. I had thought only women had big nipples, but grampa's had grown and as he squeezed one and yanked down on his cock his body spasmed and thick white spurts of cum went all over his chest and tummy. The tension in his muscles drained away as he squeezed the last of the cum out of his cock and started to snore. I managed another watery ejaculation and fell back into my chair exhausted, to sleep in the sun.