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Granny My Love

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I was counting the days before my flight to Germany, where my teaching career would begin as a lecturer in American politics as the University of Munich. With three weeks to go, I had finished the research project for the university press where I was a parttime editor. I was spending my time scouting bookstores in New York and garage sales in the suburbs for first editions of 1940s and 1950s novels for a couple of bookdealers.

Restless from the lack of responsibility, I quickly accepted when Steve invited me to New Hampshire to celebrate his and girlfriend Paula’s decision to move in together. They also offered to store my few valuables for the six months I would be away.

When I arrived on Saturday morning they were getting ready for a blackberry-picking hike with Paula’s former roommate Barbara, and I joined them.

Steve had an uncanny ability to find blackberry patches and by three we had filled all the buckets and eaten even more. Back at their apartment, Steve and Paula cooked a wonderful dinner and put the finishing touches on a bon voyage cake. Barbara and I washed the blackberries and crushed almost ten pounds of them in preparation for the jam she and Paula were going to make during the week.

Steve had dated Barbara at the beginning of the summer, but fell head-over-heels in love with her roommate when they met. Since Steve shared a small house with three other guys, it was easy for them to sleep together there, but the summer was coming to an end and the house was rented for the academic year. They decided to live together and found a small apartment.

Paula was deeply grateful to Barbara. Paula’s parents had thrown her out when she got pregnant at nineteen and she was doubly devastated when the boyfriend was killed three months later in Vietnam. She was alone and on welfare when social services found Barbara, and they arranged for Barbara to take her in and care for her through the birth and adoption process.

Steve met Barbara in the spring and they quickly became lovers. When Paula and Steve clicked she selflessly gave him up to her. Paula made a point of including Barbara in as many of her activities as she could, even if it made Steve uncomfortable.

Barbara had a job as an administrative assistant at a girl scout camp near her house in Vermont. At dinner she asked me if I would like to come to the closing events and the picnic she was having afterward.

“Sure, that sounds like fun. I’d love to. When is it? I’ve got to leave for New York on Monday.”

“We’re having the ceremonial flag lowering tomorrow afternoon, with a light lunch before the kids take their buses home. Later on some of us are having a picnic. Come for the ceremony. It’ll be fun, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Skip around the dining room! Skip around the dining room!” chanted two hundred early-adolescent girl scout voices in ritualistic unison. They meant me, as the only male in the room except for the camp’s director. It took me half way around before I got it right, but by the end the applause washed over me as I breathlessly sat down on the bench next to Barbara.

“You forgot to mention this,” I puffed.

“Silly of me,” she smiled, disingenuously.

The picnic was on a hilltop above the camp, with a wonderful Vermont view of the sunset. The six counselors who joined Barbara were all college juniors. They included Kathy and “Granny,” roommates at the University of Pittsburgh who were in their second season as senior counselors. While I was there because of Barbara, it was impossible for me to ignore “Granny.”

She was 5-feet-7, thin, small-breasted, with slight hips and an oval face. Her nose was slightly freckled and her bright brown eyes matched her hair. Her raucous laugh was infectious and, as dusk came on and the several bottles of wine took their effect, she led the laughter at the stories of girlish escapades.

“Remember the kid who tried to sneak her boyfriend into camp the second night?”

“No! What happened?”

“For a thirteen-year-old, she really had nerve. He was from the boys’ camp on the other side of the lake and must have walked all afternoon to get here. She met him at the gate and stashed him in the bushes until dark, then took him down to the water. The director caught them making out and called his camp!”

“How about the lanyard the girl made that everyone but her said looked like a penis?” They roared.

“And the night the head counselor in B section got poison ivy all over her ass when she was dong a lot more than making out with the canoe manager!”

I was sitting next to Granny and began to massage her back. She wiggled against me and I put my hand as far down the back of her pants as I could, which was just to the top of the crack of her ass. I stroked it lightly.

As she lay back on the blanket, I moved my hand to her raised knee and lightly slid down her thigh to her crotch, then up her torso to her breast. In the dark, no one could see and only I could hear her breathing get deeper as I massaged the breast. Her hand illegal bahis reached for me and rubbed my back above my pants.

The picnic broke up around nine. The director had invited all the counselors who were still in camp to his house. Our group got there about an hour into the party. They all yelled “skip around the dining room!” and got a furious blush out of me. The director gave a short thank-you speech, singling out Barbara for making his and his wife’s job easier. And he gave Granny the counselors’ leadership award.

I drove Barbara home but declined her offer to stay.

“Barbara, I just can’t. I have to be back in New York tomorrow and I’m moving to Germany in two weeks. I can’t start a new relationship now, it’s just not fair. I’d like to see you when I come back in March.”

The road back to Steve and Paul’s place ran past the entrance to the camp. As I neared it, I noticed that my lights were dimming. I pulled over and, as I pushed the switch off, I felt a spark. Damn! My 15-year-old old VW had an electrical short. It was almost midnight and I didn’t relish spending a cold night in my car.

I walked into the camp and asked the first person I saw for Granny. After a few minutes she arrived with her flashlight.

“I’m really sorry to bother you, but I have a problem with my car. The electrical system is shorting out and it would be really dangerous to drive with no lights. Can I ask you a really big favor? Could I borrow a couple of blankets and stay in one of your spare cabins?”

“I don’t see why not,” she said. She took me to a cabin off the camp’s main road. We stopped at the supplies building and she took out six blankets and a couple of pillows. All the bed frames in the cabin had been taken apart and were stacked in one corner, but there was plenty of floor space.

“You’ll be roughing it, but I picked this cabin because there aren’t any holes for the raccoons to get in.”

“Thank you, Granny. I really appreciate this. I’m no camper but freezing in my car wasn’t looking real attractive.”

She checked the walls to make sure there were no protruding nails. As I made a bedroll out of the blankets, she stood close to me. When I finished I sat down and reached for her leg, inviting her to join me.

We kissed heavily right away. I rolled her on top of me and grabbed her ass, pulling it into my erection. She pushed herself forward and stuck her tongue deep into my mouth. When we broke off and gasped for air she rolled off me. I reached for her breasts.

“Peter, we can’t do this here. There are occupied cabins nearby. Take the blankets and we’ll go down to the lake.”

Even with the flashlight it was rough going until we reached the broad expanse of hard sandy beach. She took us into a small clearing on the water’s edge. Suddenly, she heard something and quickly pushed me into the underbrush.

“They followed us! I can’t believe this!”

As we huddled in the thicket, four of Granny’s fellow counselors came into view, trying to find our tracks.

“They must have gone the other way,” said one.

“I didn’t see them, they had to go this way,” said another.

“Well, they’re not in the clearing here,” said the first, meaning the very spot we were in thirty seconds before.

“It would’ve been fun to surprise them. Wonder where they went?”

“Well, not here. Maybe they doubled back to the sugar shack.”

After holding our breath for what felt like five minutes, Granny motioned me back into the clearing. She was indignant.

“Remember the story about the kid whose boyfriend came to camp her second night? Well, this is where everyone goes to make out. One of those girls is the camp busybody who thinks it’s neat to jump out of the shadows and scare people.”

“The cabin you put me in is the ‘sugar shack’?” I asked.

I could hear her blush. “Well, yes, that’s what we call it. It’s far enough out of the way that the counselors can sneak someone in and none of the kids know it.”

As we relaxed from our escape, I spread a blanket on the ground and rolled another into a wide headrest. Granny lay down and I pulled the other two blankets over us and we kissed some more. I opened the buttons on her shirt and slipped her breasts out as she licked her lips and tried to slip my polo shirt over my busy arms. Finally she commanded “be still!” and got the shirt over my head.

I lay back and got her to straddle me, so I could reach for her bra and free her breasts. As I kneaded them she bounced up and down a little bit below my hips. She was having a good time.

“This is delicious! Stand up, please, I want you naked, Granny!”

Her pants and panties came off quickly and I brushed the insteps of both feet with my lips as I lifted her feet out of her sandals. She fumbled a little bit with my belt but had my pants and jockeys down in one move. She yanked my shoes off without untying them.

We eyed each other hungrily in the moonlight. Her legs, buttocks, and hips were so well proportioned, so slim, illegal bahis siteleri with a soft brown bush grown over her pussy lips. Her belly was tight and her chest, with its smallish breasts, was exactly right, small but not showing the ribs.

We landed on the blanket together and I slipped a finger into her pussy to test her wetness. She moaned slightly as she passed the test and I quickly parted her legs to position myself.

She reached out for my cock and inched herself forward, placing the head at the very door of her pussy. I slobbed my fingers, lubricated the cockhead, and moved in.

“Oh yes, yes YEAH!” she said, as I one-stroked completely into her. She grabbed my shoulders and hung on as I began pumping. She was very passive at first, but as I encouraged her she moved against me. When my tension announced my coming ejaculation, she urged me on by pulling my ass toward her. “Now, Peter, now, do it, oh yes! Yes!” I came furiously.

We subsided into each other’s arms, me taking care to stay inside her, and I rolled to the side. She held me with her arms and legs. I kissed her sweaty face all over as she combed the sweat out of the hair on my back.

“Oh wow Granny, that was wonderful. This is such a romantic spot for fucking, no wonder you wanted to come here.”

“That was so nice, Peter,” she said dreamily. Suddenly she coughed and I popped out. A cloud of uncertainty crossed her face We lay silently for several minutes, just feeling each other’s breathing, until I struggled to stand up.

“Where’s a safe place for me to pee, Granny?”

“Over there,” she said, gesturing to the large tree twenty feet away. I hosed down the trunk and returned to the blankets, but not before tripping over a root and falling heavily.

“You okay?”

“Yes, at least I think so. This may be a romantic spot but it’s also dangerous.” I picked myself up and returned to the blanket.

In my absence Granny had ripped one of the pillow cases into a long strip and was in the process of making a pad out of it.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“We seem to have loosened me up, Peter. It’s my period. I hadn’t expected it until Tuesday.” And sure enough, the blanket was bloody, with my cum mixed in, and in the light of the flashlight I saw blood on my cock and on her thighs.

“I’m sorry, I —”

“Don’t be. I’m not. That was wonderful. Let’s go wash up in the lake.” And so we two naked lovers splashed cold water on each other, then dashed for the blankets and pulled them over us.

“It’s 2 o’clock, Peter! Kathy and I are going to head back to Pittsburgh at nine. I have to get back.” She started to get up.

“Please don’t go. Can’t we just sleep together here? The sunrise will wake us.”

“I can’t. I promised her we’d be on the road by nine. I’m not usually this impulsive and I don’t want her to feel like I’ve ditched her any more than I have already.”

“I’ll get my car fixed tomorrow. Will you come to New York with me?”

“No. Kathy is my roommate and my friend. I won’t do that to her.”

We fell silent again.

“So I’m never going to see you again?”

“Who said that? Pittsburgh’s not that far from New York. You can come out when school starts, in three weeks.”

It was my turn to say “I can’t.”

“I’ve got a job in Germany, teaching American politics. I’m leaving in two weeks and won’t be back until March.”

“Well, then, it looks like what we have here is a summer romance,” she said slowly.

“That’s not what I want!” My vehemence surprised me. “How about this? You and Kathy drive back to Pittsburgh, get settled, then you come to New York. I have no commitments that last week, so I can show you the city.”

“I’ve never been to New York, Peter. Can I think about it? I’ll call you when I get home — if you’ll give me your phone number.”

“Got a pen?”

“Not here, but back in my bunk I do.”

I washed the bloodied blanket in the lake and we dressed, then gathered the blankets and pillows and tramped back to the sugar shack. She got a pen and some paper and wrote down my number, gave me a quick kiss, and turned to leave.

“Stop, please, Granny! I have to ask you something?”

She held back at the door, waiting.

“Why do you let everyone call you ‘Granny’?”

“Because I wear my hair in a bun, like now. It’s just slightly wavy, and it’s thin. It won’t lay flat. I even tried ironing it, and all I got were split ends. I can’t do anything else with it.”

“Can I call you something else? Your real name, for instance?”

She walked over and kissed me on the lips. “It’s Frances, but I like Francy. Peter, you’ve got to get some sleep, you have to be out of camp by sunrise, otherwise there will be trouble.”

I was up and gone at the crack of dawn. The shop where Steve serviced his car, while it wasn’t a VW shop, had a mechanic who put in a serviceable replacement switch. By nine I was at Steve’s apartment and made my apologies for not coming in last night.

“Were canlı bahis siteleri you with Barbara?” asked Paula.

“No. Paula, I just couldn’t. I just, well, she’s not my type. That’s so trite, I know, but I can’t do it.” Paula looked at me darkly but didn’t say anything. They gave me a good-sized box of bon voyage cake and I was on my way by noon.

When Wednesday passed, I gave up on hearing from Francy. When I got back Thursday afternoon the answering machine light was blinking.

“Hi, Peter. Sorry I haven’t called but I’ve been really busy. Are you accepting guests this weekend? I can stay for four days. Call me” and she left her number.

Francy took the bus and get into the Port Authority terminal around six on Friday afternoon. She hopped off the steps and jumped into my arms, and we kissed lavishly. Her small suitcase went into the trunk of the cab and half an hour later we were ripping each other’s clothes off in my apartment.

The weekend passed in a blur of sex, subways, and small ethnic restaurants. At one point we walked down Broadway from Grant’s Tomb to the Flatiron Building. We got a small sunburn on the Circle Line as we circumnavigated Manhattan. Monday morning, after fucking, we sat naked at my small kitchen table and talked about what was going to happen to us.

“What are you going to do next, Peter?”

“I am just so in love with teaching, but it’s 1969. There’s such a glut of new PhD’s out there, and I don’t even have that,” I said. “The Germany option seems like a good one. If I get a good recommendation from them, I could parlay it into a lectureship at a good university. Otherwise I don’t see how I’m going to get a foothold anywhere outside a community college.”

You’re so good at teaching, I can’t see how you won’t get hired. You’ve taken me around the city and I feel like I’m with my personal professional historian.”

“It’s a risk. The chairman of the political science department at Yale, who I hadn’t even met before a conference last spring, put my resume all over the country: that’s how the Germany job came up. He’s agreed to handle any inquiries that come in when I’m in Munich. He even thinks I can get a short-term appointment there for the spring, so I’m subletting the apartment while I’m away, not giving it up.

“What about you?”

“I’ll graduate in May. My degree is in economics and I think New York would be a good place to start a career in finance.” My heart skipped a beat.

“Would I make you very uncomfortable if I confessed something, Francy?” I said.

“Oh no, please don’t, I don’t want to hear it, please no Peter, please no.” The stricken look on her face told me she had anticipated this.

“I’m going to do it anyway. I love you, Francy. I hope we can be together when I come back in March.”

“Peter, that’s so far away. I’ll only be 22 by then. We can’t predict what’s going to happen to either of us in the next six months. It’s unfair for either of us to make plans about ‘us.'”

“You’re right, of course, it’s presumptuous of me. I apologize. Still, we are so compatible, I feel it so much. I am so lucky to have had to skip around the dining hall,” and I reached over and kissed her. We raced back to bed.

Afterward, Francy propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me with determination. “I’ve been hiding something from you, Peter, and now seems like a good time to tell you. It’s about my past.”

“Francy, I don’t care about your past. You haven’t asked me about mine and I have no right to know about yours.”

“It’s not what you think, it’s not a horrible thing, Peter, but I want you to know about me.” She paused, then inhaled deeply

“When you appeared at the gate, I realized that fate had sent you to me. I wasn’t going to let anything scare you off. I wanted you for myself then, and I do now. I was a virgin. The business with my period was a cover-up for explaining the blood.”

It took a few seconds for this to settle in. I couldn’t laugh, but I was very flattered. I kissed her and held her close.

“So how are we going to handle being apart for six months, Francy?”

“I’ll be very honest, Peter. You’ve had other women before me, probably lots of others. I will not even think you won’t want lovers in Germany. In fact, I want you to, because when we meet in March I want to know that you’re back in my life because you want to be there.”

“And you?”

“You’re my first lover, and I’ll always remember that night. At one point I caught your profile against the moon, with your cock sticking out at just the right angle. I nearly fainted, because I couldn’t believe it would fit in me. I was so hungry for you, just like I was ten minutes ago.

“You’ve taught me how wonderful sex is. I know that I won’t be able to avoid other men, just like I know you won’t avoid other women. So we shouldn’t pretend there won’t be sex in our lives by March.

“But promise me that you will call when you’re back in New York, no matter what,” she said. “We can decide then. Okay?”

I wrote Francy once a week at first, then regularly once every two weeks. I sent her postcards whenever I was in a new city. And I had four new lovers, even living with a British graduate student for two months. But Francy was always on my mind.

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