I’m a dirty old man; I freely admit it here, though you’d have to put my life outside this new-fangled tablet or my phone under a microscope to spot it in what I now consider the real world.
I’m 57, in pretty good shape for an old guy, still mostly dark hair covering my head, tall too, just reaching up the tape to 6’ 1” and although not as horny as I once was, I still admire any female I run across, though never played away from home. My wife used to keep this in check for me, but since the menopause she seems to have gone right off the idea of sex, saying we’re both old enough to calm things down. I agreed verbally, but in my mind? Well, that’s another matter entirely. Alice herself had discovered quilting and was now getting into it big time, including the occasional local show. However, for the first time she was planning an overnight visit with her group to the capital for the ‘big one’ and had cajoled me into stumping up the cash for it. Not that I was complaining too much as I’d at least be able to indulge in my ‘hobby’ through the day without fear of interruption from my wife and the resultant tongue lashing I could expect.
Yes, when my wife takes to her bed with her quilting patterns and early nights, I tend to stay down in my den looking at porn and indulging in cybersex as I wasn’t ready to begin an affair with anyone. Alice, my wife, might not be indulging me anymore, but she wasn’t stupid either and used to have an innate sixth sense for anything I might be doing that was slightly ‘dodgy’. Still I knew the time was coming when I was going to step outside the boundary as my hand was nowhere near the same as a woman’s pussy and the delightful dance that went with gaining access to that precious place.
Not that I had a clue yet as to how I was going to go about it. Sure, people in the movies had affairs and the stories I read seemed to make it easy to cheat. Even the occasional foray with some woman (hopefully) in a chatroom never took into account the cost of indulging in getting a hotel room, particularly through the day. Alice also had a tendency to watch our finances like a hawk. So, using the card wasn’t really an option either. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it’s possible in some countries to find a ‘half hour hotel’ or a ‘through the day’ cheap motel. But for me, well I was a complete beginner and wouldn’t know where to start. Nor had I yet met anyone willing to invite me to their place. People are just careful and always want to meet up first and I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Sure, I had a couple of other irons in the fire, so to speak, mostly from ideas garnered online, but nothing definite.
And it happened, an opportunity came knocking and from a direction I wasn’t really expecting, well not for a while, so to speak. On the day after my 57th birthday it was evening and I sat with my tablet. I heard the ‘bing’ of a text from the daughter of a friend of Alice’s. She’s always called me gramps although we aren’t related. She had mixed in with the rest of the family to the stage where people more often believed we were related. Jenny’s very shy, but lovely, a sixteen-year-old with low self-confidence and self-esteem, no boyfriends, just hung out with the family and stayed close to her mum and occasionally fixated a little on me as a father figure as her Dad had run off years ago. She was the youngest of a gaggle of girls who hung around with my granddaughters. Yes, I’d sort of teased her a little in earlier texts, but nothing overt and all quite explainable. This time started innocently enough as well, but my innate horniness and frustration eventually came to the fore and what can only be described as grooming began to take place after the teasing of the previous weeks, though nothing overt initially.
I’ve written this as I remember it, as almost the first thing I did was delete it off my phone afterwards. I couldn’t be too careful as to who might see it and draw the ‘right’ conclusions. Yes, I’ve corrected the grammar and spelling as well as it didn’t read too well when I wrote it on the tablet.
Jenny. Happy birthday, gramps.
Gramps. Thank you sweetie.
J. Did you have a good birthday?
G. Yes, nanna and I went out to eat with some old friends. A very nice time.
J. Sounds fun.
G. Now I’m in the den watching a movie. (A little white lie, it was a porn gif site.) J. I thought you would be asleep.
G. Not usually.
J. Oh well, I should probably go to sleep now, byee!
G. Always great to hear from my favourite young lady.
J. Haha, I bet you say that to all of us.
G. No, you’re the only one I have on my phone.
J. What do you mean?
I pulled up and posted the only picture I had of Jenny alone. No, she wasn’t the only one of the pictures I had, but she didn’t need to know that and yes, I was sort of testing the water with the other girls too, though nothing near as advanced as Jenny. After all, in spite of their real age they hopefully weren’t old enough to know better either.
J. Haha, that’s a terrible photo of me, gramps.
G. I think you look beautiful.
J. Aww, thanks.
G. Do you know my favourite memory of you?
G. We went to that river I went to as a boy. Just me with the rest of you girls. (And so it began.) You all wanted to go swimming, but we hadn’t brought any togs. I said you could all go skinny-dipping, so you did. Afterwards you all lay on the rocks to dry off.
G. Do you remember that? (I certainly did. It was the beginning of this path I was heading down in a certain sense and the memories were sharp, though I’d had the sense not to try and photograph it, just treat it as a normal occurrence.) J, Yes.
G. Did you ever tell your Mum? (I reckon none of them did. They treated it as a naughty secret.) J. No, none of us did, haha.
G. Did you like that day? (Long pause.) G. Are you still there. (Hell!) J. Yes.
G. What happened? (Sweating slightly.) J. I was looking for a gift for you on Amazon.
G. Oh I don’t need a gift, sweetie.
J. Are you sure?
G. Yes. Just send me a new pic of you from your phone.
What I got was a mirror imaged selfie of her, but with the phone obscuring her face.
G. I can’t see your face. Lol. Did you just take that?
G. What are you wearing?
J. My bathrobe.
G. Could you send me one that shows a little more of you? (Carefully, carefully. Get ready to say you meant her face.) What I got was a picture of a leg. OK; a nice leg, but it could have been any woman’s leg.
G. Very funny. I don’t think I can put that on my phone.
J. Why not?
G. It’s just a leg. Can you send me one where I can tell it’s my lovely Jenny?
I got the surprise of my life when a picture of her came through showing a hint of small cleavage and a robe open down to her navel.
G. I’m here.
J. Did you get my pic?
G. Yes, dear.
J. Was it OK?
G. Yes. (And now the million-dollar question.) Are you alone?
J. Yeah, I’m in my room.
G. Can I ask for one more thing?
G. Can you pull the robe back a little more? (Sweating now.) A picture came back; almost identical save for the opening now went down to show a tiny hint of shaven pussy.
J. Like that?
G. Yes, maybe a little bit more? (I think she gets it, hope so anyway, if not, soon enough.) Do you know how you’re making gramps feel? (long agonising pause.) G. Hello? (Longer pause.) G. Are you there? (Panicking now!) G. I am so sorry, dear. (Strategic retreat planned.) Please don’t tell anyone.
J. Sorry. Mum came in.
G. Did she see what you were doing?
G. Did you tell her we were texting?
J. No. She asked me if I’d wished you a happy birthday, I said yes.
G. What else did she say? (Too close, too close, calm down.) J. She told me to go to bed.
G. Do you need to go now?
G. I have an idea.
G. Would you like to come over next weekend? Grandma will be at a quilting event most of the weekend, is that OK? (Please be OK, please.) J. OK.
G. Would you like that?
J. Sure. I can sleep on the sofa.
G. Grandma will be gone Saturday night.
G. You can sleep in our bed if you want.
G. Would you like that? (Please say yes.) J. Sure.
G. Can you send me another picture with more of your body? (Let’s see if the deal is sealed.) Oh, my God! A full frontal, she’s beautiful, long dark brown hair, small boobs, possibly still an A-cup, slim athletic figure, shaven pussy. A total wet dream for a man in a desert.
G. Wow! You are so beautiful.
G. How are you feeling?
G Do you know how you make me feel?
Ok, time for a dick pic and hope I’m not about to be sent down for indecent exposure.
G. You there?
G. Did that bother you? (Please say no.) J. No. (Thank God!) G. Did you like it?
J. Kind of.
G. You can touch it on Saturday if you want.
J. OK. (Long silence.) G. What are you thinking?
J. About your dick.
G. What about it.
J. How big it is.
G. What else?
J. How it would feel.
G. What do you mean?
J. How it would feel inside me.
G. Really? (Result!) J. Yeah.
G. Are you touching yourself?
G. Show me.
.... There is more of this story ...