Thursday , May 19 2022

How had he not noticed his grandmother’s tits before?

Brendan Albertson was in the absolute last place he wanted to be on Christmas Eve: At his grandmother’s house with family.

Relatives milled about, portly old aunts always pinching the 19-year-old’s cheeks, droning on about what a handsome young man he was turning into, not seeming to notice his forced I-couldn’t-possibly-give-less-of-a-shit smile on his face, spilling food onto his lap as they leaned over him with full plates in their fat hands. And inevitably it would be followed by his well-intended mother worrying over him, hoping he was having a good time at a party she’d forced him to go to.

This wasn’t the party he wanted to be at. There were others, there was always a party going on elsewhere at Christmas, lots of them, one in particular Brendan was dying to get to. At Maria Chavez’s house, a gorgeous little Latino girl in his freshmen English class at the local college. For a whole semester, he’d been eyeballing the slightly chubby, dark-skinned hottie, taking exceptional notice of her gigantic tits. The fuckers were huge and fleshy, large on their own but seemingly more so because of the few extra pounds the pretty girl carried.

Her nipples in particular drove him nuts; he loved tits in general, but nips in particular. Maria’s were thick, pronounced, clearly on display in the usual tight shirts she wore to class. She had nipples that were always erect, always driving Brendan mad. She’d flirted with him, he’d flirted with her, and when she invited him to her house on Christmas Eve — when her parents would be elsewhere at their own boring holiday party — his cock fairly exploded in his pants dreaming of the possibilities of getting Maria’s tits all to himself.

He looked at his watch. It was 8:30. He hoped his parents would get bored and release him from this hell on earth and go home, freeing him to go to Maria’s, where he knew the party would burn late into the night and he could hopefully feast on the succulent little bitch’s fat nippies at least until her parents came back.

So he made the best of it, which included spiking his own punch glass as often as he could get away with it. Fuck the minimum drinking age, he needed a buzz to get through this boring family blather-fest. He was well into his fourth of fifth cup, feeling the welcoming, warm numbness spread through his body, when his grandmother, Katie, approached and sat down beside him, patting his knee.

He looked at her and smiled. She could read him. She could always read him. And by the look on her pretty face, he knew what she was thinking.

“Boring as hell, isn’t it?” she laughed, looking around the room, making Brendan giggle. “Christ, if I were your age, anywhere else would be better than here.”

“God, Grandma, you’re right,” he sighed. “But hopefully I can escape soon…”

“And go where?” she asked.

“Oh, I have options,” he laughed. “One in particular.”

“Ohhh, a special girl, right?” Katie smiled.

“Yeah, pretty special,” Brendan said, thinking of Maria’s tits and nipples and then realizing with horrid clarity he was staring right into his grandmother’s wrinkly cleavage when he thought it.

And worse yet, it made his dick twitch to life.

‘What the fuck’? his thoughts continued, looking away nervously, slugging down the rest of his spiked punch.

Grandma Katie was a beautiful woman. She was 67, tall and lean, keeping herself in great shape. She didn’t look her age, certainly didn’t act it, and therein was part of her beauty, at least in Brendan’s mind. But now, as he looked anywhere but at his grandmother’s ample bosom, revealed to a disturbing degree in her low-cut, clingy red party dress, his mind couldn’t help but envisioning burying his face in it.

“She must be special, because YOU are!” Grandma Katie gushed, suddenly wrapping her arms around her startled grandson, pulling his face into her chest and holding him tight.

It was dark in there. That was Brendan’s first thought, wishing he had some light to feast his eyes upon the soft meat pressed against his face.

He had a raging hard on. That was his second thought, and an appalling one at that.

“Uh…thanks, Grandma, thanks,” he warbled weakly, pulling his face slightly away from her chest, enough light filtering in to allow him to see every delicious wrinkle, every tiny freckle, every dark shadow between her huge tits leading to an ancient promised land.

But she wouldn’t let go. Her arms held him tight, she was cooing happily, hugging him. He inhaled. She wore the same old-lady perfume she always wore, one he’d always smelled on her, but now the aroma was consuming him, his mind equating the smell with the throbbing boner in his pants. His mind raced, projecting, thinking whenever he smelled it again, his dick would spring to life.

‘Goddammit’! he thought, inhaling deeply, relishing the scent, fighting the urge to thrust his face into that welcoming cleavage and clamp his eager lips around her nipples.

Her nipples. Now that’s all he could think of. Her nipples. His grandmother’s nipples. He imagined the meat of her big titties as smooth, white with little blue veins beneath, and her nipples thick and wrinkled and large and brown. He managed to pull his face away just enough to cast his eyes down over the smooth red fabric of her tight dress hugging her big boobs.

There they were. Had they been there before? The fucking things were huge, her nipples, clearly pushing through her bra and dress. The bra would have to be pretty sheer, he thought. Women must wear sheer bras with dresses like this, right? He wondered what color it was, did it match her dress? Did it have to? Was that a rule of women’s wear, the bra matches the dress or not?

His mind was mush, gone as soft as his dick was hard.

He was fantasizing, out of control.

“Do you want them, Brendan?” he imagined her saying, rocking him in her arms. “Do you want to suck my nipples, Brendan? Is that what you want? To suck my nipples, your grandma’s nipples?”

“Oh, God, Grandma yes!” he blurted. And not in his imagination. Out loud.

He felt her tense up.

“What?” she asked, pulling his face away from her chest, holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “Yes what?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he mumbled, casting his eyes down, away from hers — right down at those amazingly huge fucking nipples. “I…uh…just…”

She saw it. She saw the look, the stare, and felt his nervous tremble through his shoulders into her hands. She smiled, reaching for his chin, tilting it up to look at her. She sat, bathed in a soft multi-colored glow of the nearby, over-decorated Christmas three, her silky silver hair brushing her shoulders, radiant, brilliant.

“It’s OK,” she said softly, gently returning his face to her chest, pressing it against the soft skin, the aroma overcoming him again. “I understand…boys will be boys…”

‘What the fuck does she mean’! he thought, aghast at the prospect of his doting grandmother’s acceptance of his ogling her unbelievable old tits and firm nipples.

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