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The Lure of Her Legs Ch. 01

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He stared hard the minute he sat on the couch. Those legs, as always, drew his gaze.

She sat in a chair near the couch, reading the paper held before her face. It was a perfect way for him to watch those legs. She wore a tiny, silky pair of green running shorts on this warm afternoon, and nearly every inch of those sexy legs showed.

Her thighs were tanned deeply, heavily freckled, thin and fleshy, the insides wrinkled and slightly saggy as she sat, sneakered feet on the floor, legs slightly spread, gently moving them in and out, in and out. Those marvelous creamy inner thighs wobbled, a gentle wave of undulating flesh he longed to bury his face in.

Her calves were just as sexy, little balls of round muscle bulging above her low white socks as she rocked her legs, curling her toes in her sneakers. The calves were wrinkled as well, a sexy patchwork of rippling old flesh. Her shins were dark from the sun, she loved the sun, and shiny. In back, he noticed a thick vein running up from under her sock, the vein feeding blood to those amazing old calves.

And they were old. She was old. She was 70. She was his grandmother.

Barry stared hard. He always had. From puberty on he was struck by those legs of his grandmother, Mary, a blonde with silky hair, beautiful face, the usual granny look of puckered lips, crows feet around the eyes, a sexy hang of flesh at her chin and throat. Turkey wattle he’d heard it called, disparagingly. He loved hers.

Now he was a man, albeit a young man of 18, visiting his beloved granny while home after his freshman year in college. He’d gone on a run with her, lagging behind a bit so he could watch her legs flex in pounding muscularity, the skin over the steel beneath quivering as her feet hit the pavement, the muscle beneath tensing on impact. She was physically fit, active, and it showed, mostly in he legs he now stared at sitting in the living room as she read her paper. His cock throbbed in his shorts.

“Do me a favor, would you angel?” she suddenly asked, curling the paper to the side to smile at her grandson. “Can you get me a bottle of water, I’m thirsty.”

“Sure thing, Grandma!” he said brightly, getting up and being careful not to walk too straight, with his cock hard and snaking down the leg of his running shorts.

He got the bottle, one for himself as well, and walked to the back of her chair. He looked down. Her tight t-shirt had a v-neck, and he marveled at the delicate wrinkled pucker of her upper chest, the cleavage brown and freckled and meaty, extending up from untanned breasts that were pure milky white, a tiny map of delicate blue veins just below the surface of that smooth, succulent alabaster skin.

He handed the bottle to her, and she thanked him with a smile. He sat back down, pretending to read himself. He started at those legs again, felt his cock harden anew. She crossed the right leg over the left, exposing a great, meaty shank of right thigh, the side furrowed with muscle separation of her quads and hamstring, the skin stretched thin. He gulped as she wiggled the crossed leg, rotating her sneakered food. The motion caused that big bubble of right calf to bulge and flex and ripple under her beautiful, tanned skin.

He was about to burst, and needed relief. He’d go to her bathroom, stroke himself there, and if he were very lucky, find a pair of her soiled panties or socks to help him along. But then she put the paper down, yawned and stretched, standing up to walk by the big sliding doors to her sunny deck, hands on her hips, rocking up and down on her feet, calves bulging.

He could hardly stand it. Her leg, thinnish but so very shapely, were outlined by the late-afternoon sun, the rays casting her magnificent legs in silhouette, the tiny, sexy little hairs of the sides of her thighs and calves gleaming. He wanted nothing more than to kneel behind her and lick every inch of her smooth, strong calves and thighs. And more.

Then she turned to face him, smiling uncertainly.

“Uh, Barry,” she said, making him instantly nervous by the tone of her voice. “May I ask you something? Something personal?”

“Uh, sure, Grandma, sure,” he said nervously, looking anywhere but at his beautiful sexy granny about 10 feet away, that sun again silhouetting her amazing old legs.

She sighed and said it: “Do you have…uh…a thing for legs?”

His world stopped spinning. He stared at her, knowing he was blushing. He lied and said, “Uh, no, no, no…what…what do you mean?”

“Not just legs,” she continued slowly. “My. escort bostancı Legs. Do you, you know, have a thing or whatever for my legs?”

She blushed now as well, getting out in the open what she’d known for years. She was an observant woman, a beautiful, single woman, and she knew when men would check her out. She enjoyed it. But when she started noticing her own grandson’s roving eyes, almost always focused on her legs whenever they were on display in shorts or skirts or even knee-length stretch pants she liked to wear that exposed her long, rugged calves, it troubled her.

And, she had to admit to herself, excited her as well.

She noted his nervous look, him fidgeting in his seat, unable to look at her, his red face.

“It’s OK, Barry, it’s OK,” she said with a gentle smile, walking very, very slowly toward him, not at all certain what she’d do once she arrived. “I guess…well, I’m flattered that you like my skinny old legs!”

“I don’t, Grandma, no, not really…it’s just that…they’re not old…you’re not old…” He said, looking up, voice trailing off the nearer she got.

She stood right before him. Thighs at eye level. He stared into them, the shorts exposing those long, sinewy legs. He drew his gaze up to her big brown eyes and that smile, unsure, uncertain, but accepting.

“It’s OK,” she said with a hushed whisper, not believing where she was going with this but sure it felt right.

There was a long pause, neither saying anything, a painful stretch of time empty of conversation but full of unspoken intent and wanting. Finally, she spoke.

“Touch them. Go on. Touch them.”

He blinked. His eyes widened.

“Put your hands on my calves if you want,” she said gently. “Feel them. You want to, don’t you?”

“Oh God yes!” he said with an emphatic rush of lust and love, pulling back immediately from his eagerness. “Uh…I think so…”

“Feel. My. Calves,” she said calmly, plainly, pointedly, with a subtle dominance that caught them both by surprise.

He looked up at her. The front of her bright green nylon shorts puffed out and just brushed his face, causing him to sniff the air for the scent within. He reached his trembling hands to those sturdy lower legs, fingers closing around them. He moaned an audible moan, closed his eyes, let his fingers dig in to the silky smooth tanned flesh, feeling the tensed muscles beneath as she slowly rocked on her toes.

“Are they hard?” she asked breathlessly, feeling the heat of his hands on her legs, heat that traveled up her thighs to her loins, surprising and delighting her. “Do you feel muscle, my calf muscles?”

“Oh…God…yes…” He groaned, opening his eyes to stare at the thighs just inches from him.

“Massage them, that feels nice, Barry, massage and rub my old calves!” she heard herself say almost in a whisper.

They stayed like that for a long, sexy, tense minute, Barry’s hands digging deeper and harder into the legs he’d wanted to touch so long. She spoke after that long minute, biting her lip as she felt his strong, long fingers dig into the flesh of her powerful limbs.

“Up,” she said calmly. “Up now. Up the backs of my thighs. Rub them. Massage my thighs…massage the muscles of my thighs…”

He was in another world now, feeling his way up those calves, to the silky nooks of the backs of her knees, and into the fleshy heat of her solid thighs, flexed in muscle as she stood, supporting her weight. He felt how hard they were, how hard they were making him, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath the silky, saggy flesh, feeling every imperfection, every raised freckle or skin tag, felt them compress in his squeezing hands and spring fully out when his grip lessened. He’d never felt flesh so smooth in his life. They were wrinkled and sagging at times, to be sure, but now as they were flexed, that skin was silk to his trembling touch.

He stared straight ahead and she lifted the legs of her shorts up, holding the hems her bony old fingers, pulling the material up to her hips. She looked down at him, unspeaking.

Those magic thigh fronts came into view, close up, those little hairs visible to his eyes. He worked her hamstrings, which pulled the skin in front tight over her admirable quadriceps, the skin firm and dark and freckled. His face was so close to them, so tantalizingly close, he felt their heat. He stared, burning the sight of her thighs into his mind, memorizing every silken inch of them. He licked his lips, continuing to massage the backs of those incredible ümraniye escort thighs he’d looked at for so very long.

“My ass,” she suddenly heard herself hiss darkly. “Feel my ass!”

His trembling fingers worked up the thicker tops of her thighs, sneaking under her panties, caressing the fleshy meat of her ass, his hands melting into them, marveling at every dimpled inch of them, warm and sweaty now from the afternoon heat, from their heat. His fingers worked into the crack, and felt the warm, slightly hairy pucker of the brown hole there. She moaned as he worked her fleshy bum and pulled her short legs up higher. He looked. The panty was pulled up between her meaty and very hairy pussy lips, an explosion of tufted gray-white hair. A moist spot marked the front. He inhaled, smelling the musky, sweaty scent that wafted from within.

“Lick…lick my thighs…lick them…lick my thighs,” she said in a voice she scarcely recognized, thick with lust, tinged with shame, alive with pleasure.

He gulped and obeyed, his hands still kneading that marvelously fleshy old ass. He leaned forward, planted a gentle kiss on her right thigh, the flesh quivering to his touch. Then the other. Then he pushed his head into them, burying his face where it always wanted to be, her thighs opening just enough to cradle his face.

He tasted the salty flesh, lapping gently at first, then more madly, moaning as she moaned, licking the soft meat of her inner thighs, tender and warm. He suckled the flesh, mouthed it, adored it, inhaled it. He filled his mouth with the soft meatiness of it, tasting her sweat. He ran his whole face up and down the quivering, jiggly flesh of her inner thighs, his hands still cupped around her quaking ass.

“Lick…lick me…lick me here!” she suddenly gushed, pulling her shorts down, knocking his hands out of the way as she dropped them to the floor, standing in her white panties now long lost in the crack of her ass and copious explosion of her hairy pussy. “Here! Lick me here!”

Barry watched her pull aside that strip of fabric, exposing the giant wad of matted fur there and inside, the gleaming moist flesh of her lips. She pointed to it and he dove into the first pussy of his life.

She was possessed now, hands on his head, twisting his hair in her gnarly fingers, pulling his face to her rapidly moistening pussy. She groaned as she felt his tongue burrow into the hairy folds, seeking out and finding her engorged, oily nub. His tongue dribbled it, his hands back up around that madly flexing old ass as she pumped him, pumped his face, grinding him with her wet sex, the hair coarse and abrasive on his eyes and cheeks.

He drank from her well, tasting the juices that flowed from her, his hands now massaging her ass more deeply, wantonly, his fingers pulling apart her anal ring and plunging in as far as he could. The feeling overcame her and she backed her ass into those fingers, taking one from each hand deeper inside her asshole and then bucked forward into his sucking mouth.

She was fucking his face. It was that simple, she realized, looking down at him, at her hands holding his hair and pulling him into her crotch, her thighs quivering and quaking as she spread them slightly to accommodate his face that wiggled from side to side. She was fucking his face. She was fucking her grandson’s face.

It was all too much, an out-of-body experience that made her feel like she was watching someone else. And then all at once, the grandest, wettest and most beautiful of orgasms overcame her as she held his head, pulling, grinding it into her pussy, thighs open, the insides scissoring that face, her back bent slightly. She exploded. It was the best orgasm she’d ever experienced and it seemed to last forever and not long enough as she opened her mouth to scream with pleasure but emitted no sound. She stood, quaking against her grandson’s face, fucking it and cumming hard and soaking him from forehead to lips, her viscous fluid dripping off his chin.

She slowed, stopped, pulled his face from the soggy clamp of her strong thighs, tilting it up. They didn’t speak. They didn’t know what to say. She smiled and cupping his chin, pulled him to stand before her.

She peeled off her top, then her bra, never taking her eyes off him. She put her hands between them, unsnapping his shorts, slipping them down with his underwear. His long cock, meaty and thick, bobbed up between them. Neither looked, eyes locked on each other.

She kissed him. She kissed him on the lips, framing kartal escort bayan his astonished face in her hands. She kissed him on the lips, probing gently with her tongue, tasting her funk on his face, relishing the flavor, the scent, the muskiness. She held his face, kissing him, open mouthed, tongues wrestling with each other. And she pressed forward, taking his cock in the uppermost portion of her super smooth thighs.

He gasped at the heat and texture of her thighs on his cock, the flesh silky, the muscles of her inner thighs tensing, scissoring him to her. She held his head in her hands, twisting her face around his lips, their tongues flashing, sucking, wanting. She felt the top of his cock brush her clit and her body tensed and flexed, her pussy soaking his prick. She took his hands, returning them to her flexing fleshy ass and pumped into him, her thighs slick with his pre-cum and her sweat and pussy juices, a natural combined lubricant that made his cock feel as if were enveloped in super-heated velvet.

She fucked him with her thighs. She fucked him in long, slow strokes, pulling back, feeling her ass go hard in his hands, and then pushed forward, faster, harder, his cock lost in the fleshy scissor of her thighs, thighs slapping noisily against him, smashing painfully and deliciously into his swinging balls.

His eyes opened as hers did, staring into each other. She pulled back, smiling.

“My legs,” she groaned. “Fuck my legs…”

He did, taking charge now, cupping that ass and thrusting madly into the fleshy wet warmth of his grandmother’s insistent thighs, the meat undulating, quivering, quaking, jiggling around his cock, those muscles under that flesh tensing, roped up hard and squeezing his dick. He broke from her mouth, lapping her wrinkled old face and down to that neck, the turkey wattle he’d longed to lick, suckling it, tasting the salty sweat of it, mouthing it, taking in thick, sexy mounds of it to wash with his tongue.

And down he went, her hands on his head, her head tilted back to give him room, as he licked down the wrinkled cleavage and sucked madly at the white flesh of her breasts. He took in mouthfuls of the meat, then suckling one thick brown nipple into his lips, his hands all over her ass, the middle finger of one deep inside her tight asshole.

They came at the same time. He screamed a muffled scream into the flesh of her tits and felt his balls erupt, jetting streams of cum into those madly clutching thighs, smearing around it and his cock, his balls emptying in them. She squeezed harder to milk his load, rubbing his hair as he suckled her swinging, sagging tits, and squeezed her clit down on his thrusting cock, coating it with her juices that ran over it and mixed with his. Thick lumps coated her inner thighs from her matted pussy hair down to her knees.

They slowed, stopped, stood. They held each other, panting, their breathing loud and raspy, lessening as the seconds went by. Barry stood up straight, leaving his grandmother’s thick, wet nipples. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.

“I…I uh guess you DO have a thing for legs,” she giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl in the arms of her grandson some 52 years her junior.

“No, Grandma, I have a thing for YOUR legs,” he said shyly, pulling himself from them.

They parted, looking down. Her thighs were soaked with cum, his and hers. She parted them slightly, thick silvery bridges stranded between them. They looked into each other’s eyes

“Grandma…I…I…” Barry stammered, uncertain of what to do now, sure their lives were forever altered, and not totally sure for the better or worse.

“Shhh, shhhhh,” his grandmother said with a gentle smile, taking his hands, backing toward her chair and sitting. “Shhhhh…”

She spread her legs, clumped with cum from her groin to her knobby knees. She still held his hands, now gently guiding him to his knees. He stared at those thighs, looking from side to side at them, the soft hanging flesh coated with cum.

“My legs, Barry, my legs,” she cooed, lifting her feet to rest her meaty calves on his shoulders, gently locking her sneakers and moving one leg and then the other, moving his face forward, up her calves, to her knees, to her thighs. “Lick my legs, Barry…lick my legs…clean the legs you love…”

He felt her calves tense on his neck, drawing him close, smelling the bleachy scent on those thighs, thighs loose and relaxed, jiggling before his astonished eyes. She wriggled her calves on him, bringing him closer. He looked up, over her slightly puffed white belly, those gorgeous tits hanging to the side, the waddle of her neck as she bent her chin toward her chest, and the smile on her beautiful face.

He opened his mouth and moved to those thighs…

(to be continued)

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