Giving My Grandpa An Intense Fuck


My name is Sarah, and I am 23 years old. I have short, fiery red hair. Today, I’m in a short black skirt and blouse with a few missing buttons showing my cleavage, a nod to the countryside’s practical charm and a little touch of city style. I will visit my grandpa, who lives alone in a weather-beaten house at the edge of a tiny village. The drive there, through rolling hills and green fields, is like stepping back in time, a world away from the hustle and noise of the city.

When I arrive, Grandpa is on the porch, wrapped in an old plaid blanket, even though the sun is shining warmly. His white hair, like snow, contrasts sharply with the lush green around him, and his eyes, a striking blue, twinkle as they always have, though they’ve grown softer with age.

“Sarah, my girl!” he calls out, his voice gruff but filled with warmth that wraps around me like a hug. “Look at you, all grown up and fancy.”

“Hi, Grandpa,” I say, running up the steps to hug him. His embrace is strong, and he smells of old leather and tobacco, a scent that feels like home. “How have you been? Miss me?”

He chuckles a deep, hearty sound that rumbles through his chest. “Every day, sweetheart. Every single day.”

We sit on the porch for a while, the wooden boards creaking under our weight. Birds chirp in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves. Grandpa told me about his quiet life, garden, and the neighbours. It’s a comforting routine, but there’s a sadness in his eyes when he talks about Grandma.

“I miss her, you know,” he says, staring at the horizon. “Your Grandma. She had a laugh that could light up a room. You have her smile, you know.”

I smile at that, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. “I miss her too, Grandpa. She was amazing.”

He nods, his gaze distant, lost in memories. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The conversation lulls, and I glance through the open door into the kitchen. It’s a disaster zone, with dishes piled high in the sink and crumbs covering the counters. I frown, feeling a tug at my heart. Grandpa’s never been one for housekeeping; without Grandma, the kitchen has been neglected.

“Grandpa,” I say, brushing off my skirt. “How about I clean up the kitchen for you? It looks like it could use a little TLC.”

He waves his hand dismissively, but there’s a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Sarah. It’s fine the way it is.”

“Don’t be silly,” I say, rolling up my sleeves. “I want to. Besides, you deserve a nice meal in a clean kitchen.”

He grumbles but doesn’t argue, and I head inside, the old wooden floorboards creaking under my feet. The kitchen is a mess, but I tackle it with determination. The sound of water running and dishes clinking fills the room, a rhythm that’s both soothing and satisfying. As I scrub and wipe, the kitchen slowly transforms, the counters gleaming and the air fresh with the scent of cleanliness.

With the kitchen sparkling, I turn my attention to cooking. Grandpa always loved Grandma’s homemade stew, so I rummage through the cupboards, finding the ingredients for it—beef, potatoes, carrots, onions—the essentials. I chop and dice, the knife thudding against the cutting board, and the kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of cooking food.

As the stew simmers, I knead dough for bread, my hands working rhythmically, pushing and folding the dough. Baking feels like a connection to the past, to Grandma, whose hands did the same in this kitchen.

Dinner is ready as the sun sets, casting a warm, golden light through the window. I set the table with Grandma’s favourite china, the delicate blue and white plates she loved. Grandpa watches me with a soft smile, his eyes brimming with pride.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Sarah,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Your Grandma would be so proud.”

I smile, my heart swelling with love. “I just want to make you happy, Grandpa.”

We sit to eat, our cutlery clinking against the plates, filling the quiet room. The stew is rich and hearty, and the bread is warm and crusty, just as Grandma made it. Grandpa starts to talk as we eat, his voice soft and full of emotion.

“Your Grandma was something special,” he says, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I met her at a village dance. She was wearing a blue dress, which was like music when she laughed. I knew right then that I wanted to marry her.”

I lean forward, hanging on his every word. “What was she like when she was young?”

“She was a force of nature,” he says with a smile. “Full of life and laughter. We used to go on long walks through the countryside, just the two of us. She loved the flowers, especially the wild roses. She’d pick them and make the most beautiful bouquets.”

I can almost see them, young and in love, walking hand in hand through the fields. “Did you get married here, in the village?”

He nods, his eyes growing misty. “We had a simple ceremony at the village church. She wore a white dress, and when she walked down the aisle, I thought my heart would burst with joy. She looked so beautiful, Sarah. Like an angel.”

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand, my throat tight with emotion. “She must have been so happy, Grandpa.”

“She was,” he says, his voice trembling. “We had a good life together. We raised a family and built a home. She was my rock, always there to lift me when I was down. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

I blink back tears, the weight of his words pressing down on my heart. “You’ve done so well, Grandpa. She’d be so proud of you.”

After dinner, we move to the living room, the sky outside now a deep, velvety blue dotted with stars. Grandpa settles into his favourite armchair, and I sit on the floor beside him, resting my head on his knee. His hand, warm and rough, settles on my shoulder, a comforting weight.

He begins to talk again, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. He tells me about the early years of their marriage, about the struggles and the joys. He talks about how Grandma was the heart of their home, her laughter filling every corner with warmth and light.

“She loved to dance,” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Even when times were tough, she’d put on a record, and we’d dance in the living room. She’d laugh and spin, her skirt swirling around her legs. Those were the happiest times.”

I can almost hear the music and see them dancing in the dim light of the living room, their faces lit with joy. “I wish I could have seen you together,” I say softly. You sound like you were so happy.”

“We were,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “She made every day an adventure. Even in her last days, she was full of life. She faced everything with a smile, always thinking of others. Haha I think every room we made love in.”

With my head still resting on his knee, I saw his crotch twitch a few times; omg, Were his old stories turning him on?

I felt my heart racing as I listened to his words. I had never heard my grandpa speak so openly about his sex life before, and I couldn’t help but feel aroused by the thought of him and my grandmother together.

“What was it like, Grandpa?” I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation. “How did you…you know, please her?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, Sarah,” he said, “I’ll tell you. But promise not to repeat this to your mother or aunts.”

I nodded eagerly, my eyes wide with excitement. I wanted to hear everything and learn all the secrets of my grandparents’ passionate love life.

“I always made sure to take my time with your grandmother,” he said, his voice growing softer and more intimate. “I would kiss her slowly and deeply, exploring every inch of her body with my lips and my hands. I would touch her in all the right places, making her moan with pleasure and desire.”

I put my hand up my skirt and rubbed my pussy through the material of my panties. My other hand stroked his length against his pants.

“Oh, Sarah, what… what are you doing,” he was shocked as I continued as I looked at him. “Shh, let me do this. It is our secret; I… want to help you release your tension.” I undo his pants, and he doesn’t stop me as I take out his old hard cock and start to stroke it.

I wrap my hand around Grandpa’s cock, feeling its warmth and hardness. It’s not as big as some of the cocks I’ve had, but it feels just right in my hand. I start to stroke it gently, my hand moving up and down in a smooth rhythm.

Grandpa’s breathing grows heavier as I continue to stroke him. I can feel his excitement building, and I can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement myself. I’ve never done anything like this before, but it feels right that I’m connecting with my grandpa in a way I never have before.

I lean closer to him, my breasts pressing against his leg as I continue to stroke his cock. I can feel his heart racing, knowing he’s just as turned on as I am.

“Sarah, oh Sarah,” he moans, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “This feels so good. Oh god we shouldn’t be doing this, dear.”

I ignored his words and placed my lips around the precum end of his cock.

I swirl my tongue around the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. He lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hips bucking up towards me. I take him deeper into my mouth, my hand still stroking his base as I suck him in and out. His moans grow louder and more frequent, filling the room with the sound of his pleasure.

My head bobbing up and down on his cock as I sucked him hard and fast. I kept slowing down as I didn’t want him to blow his load right away. I sucked and sucked and stroked while my eyes looked up at him; I pulled my mouth off with a pop noise. I continued to wank him while saying, “You like this grandpa? Bet it’s been a while since girls have done this with you; want me to keep going.”

“Yes, Sarah, oh god, yes,” Grandpa moans, his hips bucking up towards me as I continue to stroke and suck his cock. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything like this. You’re so good at it, sweetheart.”

“I bet you want my pussy, don’t you? My pussy flaps wrapped around your cock,” I couldn’t believe I was talking to my grandpa like this.

“Sweetie, ugh, we can’t. We shouldn’t even be doing this,” he said as I let go of his cock and stood up. I lifted my skirt and pulled down my knickers and kicked them to the side. I straddled him.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” Grandpa asked, his eyes wide with surprise. But I could see their desire, the hunger building as we talked about Grandma and their past. I didn’t say a word, just positioned myself over his lap, his hard cock pressing against my wet pussy. I looked into his eyes as I slowly lowered myself onto him, feeling him enter me inch by inch.

“Oh, Sarah,” he moaned, his hands gripping my hips as I started to ride him. I moved up and down, my clit hitting his balls every time I slammed down. While riding him, I undid my blouse and then took it off, followed by my bra.

I feel his hard length filling me up, hitting all the right spots deep inside me. I ride him harder, my ass slapping against his legs as I grind on his cock. His moans grow louder as I take control, taking what I want from him.

His fingers dig into my hips as I bounce up and down, his cock plunging deep inside my pussy. I let out a moan, “Ugh, Grandpa,” feeling the pleasure building within me. I lean back, my hands braced on his thighs, giving him a view of my bouncing tits.

Grandpa’s hand reaches up, cupping my breast, his fingers pinching my nipple. I let out a gasp, arching my back as I grind harder against his cock. His other hand snakes down, two fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in slow circles.

I kept bouncing. Omg, it felt so good, “Ugh… Mmmm… Ugh… fuck… fuck,” my cunt was getting very juicy, which helped the whole process. The armchair squeaked. There wasn’t much room, but I just kept slamming my cunt right down on his dick.

Then he surprised me with his cock still inside. He picked me up and carried me to the sofa. Laying me down with him on top and still inside, he started to really fuck me hard.

Grandpa’s hips piston into me with a raw, animalistic hunger. I cry out, my voice lost to the ecstasy consuming me. He thrusts more profoundly, his balls slapping against my ass with every stroke. My tits bounce wildly, my nipples hard and sensitive against his rough hands. His fingers pinch and tweak them, sending bolts of pleasure straight to my core.

“Fuck, Grandpa, yes, just like that, oh god fuck me, fuck my tight little slit, ugh my hairless pussy, fuck… Mmmm, omg, your cock is so good,” I beg, my voice a needy whimper. His face was red in tension as I could see he was holding it back. But he just kept on ploughing through my poor little cunt.

Grandpa’s thrusts grow more frantic as he nears his climax. He pounds into me with reckless abandon, his cock hitting my cervix with every stroke. I feel my orgasm building, my muscles clenching around him as the pleasure washes over me.

“I’m going to cum, Sarah,” Grandpa groans, his face contorted with pleasure. “I’m going to fill you up, my sweet girl, Unnngh.”

I feel his cock swell inside me as he releases his load. He fills me up, his hot cum coating my insides and spilling out of me. I cry out as I reach my own peak, my body shaking with the intensity of my orgasm.

We lay there, panting and spent, our bodies entwined. The weight of what we just did hangs heavy over us, but there is no regret, only a sense of satisfaction and love.

“I love you, Grandpa,” I say, my voice soft and full of emotion.

“I love you too, Sarah,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

We lay there for a while longer, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Eventually, we pull apart, both of us feeling a little self-conscious about what just happened. But the bond between us has grown stronger, and we know that we will always have this special connection.

As I get dressed and prepare to leave, Grandpa pulls me aside.

“I know what we did was wrong, Sarah,” he says, his voice filled with regret. “But I can’t deny that it felt good, and I can’t deny that I’ve missed that connection with someone.”

I nod, understanding his words. I know what we did was a mistake, but I also know that it was a moment of pure love and connection between two people who care deeply for each other.

“I won’t tell anyone, Grandpa,” I say, my voice filled with understanding. “It will be our little secret.”

He nods, grateful for my understanding. We say our goodbyes, and I leave, feeling a little guilty but also a sense of love and connection I haven’t felt in a long time.

As I drive back to the city, I can’t help but think about what just happened. It was a moment of pure love and connection that I will always cherish. But I know it can never happen again, and I am okay with that. I have my memories, and that is enough.


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