Illegal, Illicit, and Intoxicating
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2017 by Renpet

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6 - An erotic novel about a grandfather who's asked to take his granddaughter in for the summer - to get her away from bad influences that are making her unmanageable. He discovers rebellious Rachael isn't so rebellious after all. She's adventurous in unexpected and wonderful ways.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/ft   Incest   Mother   Father   Daughter   Grand Parent   First   Oral Sex   Petting  

Rachael arrived in the kitchen wearing a small white undershirt, white cotton printed boy-short panties, and her leather jacket, her dark curly hair sleep-mussed.

She approached me at the counter and hugged me, still sleepy and smelling warm and cuddly. For a wonderful minute I hugged her, then bent and smelled her hair.

She eased back, smiled, and said, “Make me breakfast.”

“Please,” I corrected.

She smiled. “Please.”

“You haven’t thanked me enough for the jacket.”

A sparkle entered her enchanting eyes. A small smile played across her lips. She tilted her face up.

I bent and kissed her, my hands sliding down over her leather jacket to cup her scrumptious little panty-covered ass. She tasted of mint toothpaste. Her small tongue teased. I held two of the sexiest little buttocks in my palms, and just like that, I was horny again, desire and loose morals rushing through me. Tongues teased sensually. I had a vision of lifting her, of Rachael wrapping her legs around my waist, and me carrying her off to bed.

The kiss ended. She eased out of my embrace and moved to the kitchen table.

“Well? Get cooking,” she instructed.

I grinned and, below the counter, adjusted my erection to be less conspicuous. “Cooking what?”

“Scrambled eggs and toast, please.”

I got busy. Simple scrambled eggs are easy. Delicious scrambled eggs require a bit more effort. I chose delicious over simple. Whisking eggs, I added thick cream, salt, pepper, and diced chives while the frying pan warmed.

Toast started at the same time as eggs were added to a medium hot buttered skillet. I stirred slowly, letting the eggs cook gently. High heat changes the texture of scrambled eggs, making them rubbery. Slow cooking brings out silky smoothness.

“I happen to be free today,” I said as I cooked. “Any thoughts about what to do?”

“Go for a ride on the ATVs! I need to initiate my jacket!”

“Back to the lake?” I asked hopefully.

“Isn’t there anywhere else we can explore? We can be rebel riders, ride all day, and take a picnic with us.”

I laughed. “Okay. We’ll be rebels without a cause, or without an agenda. We’ll just ride for the pleasure of it and go wherever the land takes us.”

I plated breakfast and served. Even I had to admit I’d done an outstanding job after the first bite. Rachael gave me a heartfelt, “Mmmm.”

By eight-thirty we were off. Rachael raced ahead to lead. I let her. She’d demonstrated a natural skill in handling the ATV. I liked the view from behind, too. Watching a skinny little girl astride a big machine, her legs spread, her cute little ass nicely formed by blue jeans, was really pleasurable. The thought that I was kissing that sexy girl, and fondling her small breasts, made my jeans tighten at the crotch. I felt like an old lech; a lucky old lech.

Rachael led us south across scrub brush covered hills that dipped into bare valleys. As we entered the outskirts of the Coronado National Forest, scrub brush gave way to copses of evergreens and oaks, the hills steadily growing taller, valleys deeper.

She followed no path. The terrain dictated her direction and I was sure she had no idea where she was. Rachael was just enjoying the ride.

As noon approached, we were deep into the National Forest. It wasn’t really a forest. Trees formed groupings along ridges and clung to open rock faces. Wide swathes of brown, dusty soil, wild grass, and rocks wended sinuously between the tree clusters. And still we climbed, each valley followed by a higher hill. Cresting the hills, in the far distance, tall mountains lined the southwest. Land flattened out to the southeast. The intense summer heat abated, giving way to slightly cooler temperatures, but still very warm.

Rachael cut across dirt trails, ignoring them, leading us ever higher until, cresting the top, she slowed and stopped abruptly. Before us, the high hill dropped in a precipitous cliff, the valley floor several hundred feet below us.

I pulled up beside her and turned the engine off. My watch said it was just after one. I was hungry and thirsty.

Rachael, face flushed and dripping with perspiration, set her helmet on the seat, ruffled her hair, and exclaimed, “I’m suffocating! Too hot!”

Shrugging the backpack off, I watched in amazement as she tore her jacket off, bent and unlaced her boots, removing them along with her multicolored socks. She didn’t stop there. Her T-shirt came off revealing a thin cotton undershirt. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down and off. Cute boy short panties hugged her ass beautifully.

Satisfied, she stretched and sighed. “Better. Phew! I thought I was going to do a Wicked Witch of the West!”

Rachael noticed me staring. She grinned. “Melted? Wicked witch? Literature, Gramps!” She laughed and turned back to the view. “We shoulda gone to the lake.”

I unpacked slowly, spreading a blanket on the bare rock and pulling food and drinks out, all the while looking at her. She wasn’t wearing a bra, her breasts nicely outlined by her undershirt. Her panties looked old. The leg elastic was loose, the front only hinting at the swell of her mons. Still. Sexy, illicit, and illegal!

“I don’t think you should be undressed like that,” I told her.

She looked down at herself, then at me. “It covers more than the bikini.” A cheeky grin flashed at me.

“Be that as it may, underwear is just as dangerous.”

“These old things? How?”

“It’s very intimate.”

She grinned again. “You mean sexy.”

I looked away and nodded. “Yes. Sexy.”

“You should take your shirt off. It’s hot. Take your jeans off, too.”

This time I grinned back at her. “Only my shirt. I don’t want you to get hot again.”

Rachael laughed brightly.

I unbuttoned and removed my shirt, sat on the blanket, and opened a bottle of spring water, drinking deeply. It was still partially frozen, the water ice-cold and refreshing. I sighed with pleasure.

Rachael sat on the blanket, knees up, and admired the expansive view. “You can see for miles. Shame there isn’t a lake up here. Then it would be perfect.” She grabbed a bottle of water and drank deeply. “Ahhh. Nice. Take your jeans off.”

“Nope.”

“You’ll feel good,” she suggested.

I grinned. “Nope. I’m just fine like this.”

“Party pooper. What’s that tall peak over there?” she asked, pointing south west.

“Mount Wrightson.”

“Is that the one you were telling me about? The one with the hundred mile view?”

I nodded.

“Can we go there after lunch?”

“It’s too far to get there and back before dark.”

Her beautiful dark eyes looked at me. “We could go camping there.” With a cute grin, she added, “Yes? Wanna? C’mon, Grandpa. Be a rebel. Take me camping!”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s what you said last time! What’s for lunch? I’m hungry.”

We consumed chicken sandwiches and potato chips and fruit, eating in silence. Rachael gazed at the view, her eyes studying. It let me look at her and admire the view. She was very pretty. With childhood still lingering in traces, maturity peeked out, promising a girl of arresting beauty, her coffee ice cream skin flawless. Her nose was slightly broad around her nostrils but suited her wide, expressive mouth, her lips very lush.

“You’re staring,” she observed without turning her head.

“I’m admiring, not staring.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really. You’ve got holes where you pierced your eyebrow.”

“I know. They’ll go away in a while.”

I asked, “Care to tell me why you pierced your eyebrow instead of your ears?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“Rebelling?” I asked.

“Punishing.”

“What does that mean?”

Rachael refused to answer. Instead, she changed the conversation. “You should wear a Stetson. It would suit your squint. You’d look like an old, handsome cowboy. Weather beaten. Sorta sexy.”

“Well, thank y’all,” I drawled. “You’re a purdy handsome looking filly, yourself.”

Rachael burst into laughter. “Handsome? Filly? You’re a hoot!”

She turned and sat cross-legged, facing me. “Why do you live so far away from everything?”

“You hear that?” I asked.

She tilted her head, listened, then asked, “What? I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s why. Your mom probably told you she grew up in Tucson. I lived in the city all my life. It’s a nice place, but I grew to hate the noise. So when I retired, I wanted peace and quiet.”

“You succeeded. The quiet’s nice in a way. Los Angeles is noisy, too. I thought I’d never be able to sleep the first night here, but I slept really well. I have every night since.”

She leaned forward and reached for an apple. I caught a flash of flawless skin and the top swell of her petite breasts as her undershirt draped open. Then the sight disappeared.

I dropped my eyes from her chest before she caught me looking. At that moment, she swiveled to face the vista, uncrossing her legs. Through the too loose leg and of her panties I caught a flash that made me inhale sharply.

Looking away from her, I didn’t see the magnificent sweeping land. I couldn’t. I was blinded by my mind’s eye. For the briefest second, I’d seen Rachael’s pussy through the loose elastic and Jesus Christ! It was small and sensual and with the sexiest dusting of newly formed, black pubic hairs; silky soft looking and so fresh.

Arousal arrived, an erection threatening, and I struggled. Rachael really, really attracted me. It was more than the powerful draw of her adolescence. I liked her. I liked this sweet, articulate, smart girl pretending to rebel. I adored her. I couldn’t imagine anything more exciting than an intimate relationship with her, and that desire was an aspect of my sexuality I’d never known I had. So forbidden, it struck a deep chord with me.

I looked at my hands and saw age; skin slightly looser than in my youth, scars and calluses from a lifetime of work. I was old. I might not feel it, but I was an old man in the eyes of the world.

It was wrong. This wasn’t a complex situation. I was wrong.

I opened my mouth to tell her and blurted out instead, “You haven’t thanked me enough for the jacket.”

What the fuck?! Where had that come from? Had I lost control of my Goddamned mind?

Rachael’s reaction made my chest ache. She gave me a pleased, bashful smile; so damned beautiful. Her eyes twinkled. Then a mesmerizing change took place that made me catch my breath. Her bashful, pleased smile faded to be replaced by ... by a ravenous look mixed with pure mischief.

“How expensive was this jacket?” she asked.

I smiled, pulse spiking. “To be honest, the first kiss was payment enough. But it was so good, I’ve been a bit selfish.”

She smiled slyly. “So you’ve been taking advantage of me?”

Still smiling, I said, “Maybe a little. Just a bit.”

“You like kissing me.”

I nodded. “I do. A lot. You’re a great kisser.”

“I wanna go camping. Promise me you’ll take me camping and, maaaybe I’ll give you a kiss.”

RACHAEL FELT WARMTH BLOSSOMING inside her, a heat that made her skin feel sensitive. The twinkle in Grandpa’s eyes, the corners crinkled with amusement, his face so handsome and rugged, made her heart beat faster. He looked at her like she was a dessert and he was hungry. Her nipples became sensitive to the soft cotton undershirt. Heat flowed south, her pussy throbbing. Weightlessness formed in her stomach, as if riding a roller coaster.

Why did Grandpa turn her on so much? She didn’t understand it, yet she reacted to him like no one else. Warmth hit her face as she pictured kissing those lips. The memory of being held in his arms, the safety and comfort and excitement it gave her, his gentleness, woke desire inside her

Secretly, she was proud she could turn him on. She liked that he wanted to kiss her. She liked being desired. It was a new sensation she still wasn’t used to, but it was intoxicating.

Heart thumping, she stood, moved to him, smiled and settled astride his lap. She touched his soft chest hair and rubbed as she studied his face, craggy yet handsome, almost rugged.

His large hands settled on her hips. She smiled again. He smiled back at her, his warm blue eyes excited. Slowly, very slowly, she bent and kissed him. Lips touched.

It was like being shocked with static electricity. Her lips tingled. His lips were soft and warm. Grandpa’s arms wrapped around her and hugged her, drawing her against his large body, and she closed her eyes, drowning in the pleasure and excitement of the kiss.

A shudder hit when his tongue touched her lips. Horniness hit her, flooding through her body, her nipples aching. She teased his tongue with hers and, when she heard a deep rumble of pleasure from him, Rachael fell. Tilting her head, she eased her tongue between his lips. The faint scent of cigar smoke hit her.

 
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