We went to visit Curt’s grandma, and when she went to take a nap we climbed the stairs to her attic where found this old record player, which Curt said was called a gramophone. I thought that was an appropriate name because it belonged to his grandma.

“It still works,” Curt told me, “or at least it did when I was a kid.”

I laughed because in some ways he’s still a kid. “Try it out,” I told him.

There was a box with some records, and he had me pick one out. I found one that said Tiger Rag, and he showed me how to put it on and crank the crank and set what he called the tone arm just so. It was magic! A little scratchy, but that made it all the better. We listened to record after record, and one of them was so special, so dreamily perfect—we knew that without saying anything, just from the way our kisses changed, so we played that one again and again and pretty soon we were undressed and on this heavy old rug, a little dusty but I think clean dust, me sitting back, leaning against him, with him caressing my breasts oh so gently, his thumb smoothing over my nipple in such a way that it sent shivers to my clit, and his other hand on my thigh moving in such a way that I could feel the pull in my pussy. Curt’s caresses and that music were turning me on so much, and I could tell he was turned on, too, from the way his cock lay up against my spine so big and strong and comforting, and I knew it would be in me before too long, deep deep deep in my cunt.

The song would end after just a few minutes and I’d go over to the gramophone and rewind it and put the tone arm back at the outer rim, and while I was tending to these chores, Curt would touch the sole of my foot, firm enough so it felt good without tickling, and at the same time he’d touch my bottom, nearer and nearer my center, almost but not quite nudging my asshole, and I couldn’t keep from whimpering, which made it almost impossible to set the tonearm down properly, so I just held it and enjoyed the touches, but finally I managed to start the song again.

This time I pushed Curt back and crouched over him and lowered myself onto his cock. I was so wet that I sank in easily. I fucked him slow, as slowly as possible, and when the song ended there was no way I was going to leave his cock, so that scratchy sound, like waves scraping the shore, kept going on for a while, and I squeezed my cunt on his cock, squeezed and squeezed in time to the waves. Even after the gramophone stopped, my cunt continued, wave after wave of squeezing, until at last Curt cried out, that sound he makes just before he comes, and I could feel the pulse of his cock as he was coming in me, and my cunt fluttered with the pleasure of it and flew out of control, so hard and good was I coming.

Now we visit his grandma almost every week, and when it’s her naptime we go up to the attic and have our rug time.

I can’t help wondering if his grandma and grandpa ever had rug time like we do. I hope they did.