I Could Be Her Grandfather

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A short story about a horny old man.


“There are places for guys like you,” I said to the reflection in the rear view mirror of my car and I checked to make sure I was looking as good as possible given my 58 years.

What those places were is open to debate I suppose. Mental institute? Possibly. Why else would a man be waiting in his car with the motor running and his heart racing, all for a girl less than a third his age?

Prison might be one of those places for a guy like me, given the way the girl looked, but she was of legal age. I had made sure of that. I don’t mind being called a little perverted or even a bit of a predator, but I have no interest in being called a convict or a pedophile.

Polly is 18 – turned 18 a couple of months ago. It’s her braces that make her look younger, that and her boyish body and freckles, but while her breasts may be almost non-existent, the rest of her – the parts I care most about – are all woman.

Polly will be out of work soon, and while I could wait for her at the door of the supermarket she works at, I guess part of me is too embarrassed to do so. I think I would feel more for Polly and myself, and what people would say if they saw me with her.

I suppose that they would think that I was her father – maybe even grandfather, which makes me wince – if we were just walking together. If they saw us in a more intimate time, they might cringe, or worse. They might say, what does she see in him? They also might say, what does he see in her, because in fact neither one of us are what you might call overly attractive.

I can be objective about myself; I’m 6’3″ and weigh about 15 pounds more than I should. My hair was having a contest to see whether it would turn all white before it disappeared completely until I finally gave up and got rid of it all. I look a little like Telly Savalas back in the Kojak days, and Polly admitted that I looked scary to her at first.

She had nothing to be afraid of – sort of. I wouldn’t harm a fly and am as even tempered a guy that you could find, a sharp contrast to the way I look. In retrospect, I guess Polly did have reason for concern, because right from the start I knew what I wanted. I wanted Polly.

Describing Polly, I can’t even pretend to be objective because I’m sure that I don’t see her the way she really is. I admit that she’s not a raving beauty for most standards. She’s got a bit of a big nose and not quite enough chin but she’s cute in her own way. Her china white skin has freckles galore and her 5’4 frame could use an easy 20 or so pounds. Her bright red hair is a bit frizzy and cut short.

I didn’t know I would be her first – her first just about everything – when I first started showing interest in her. I knew she was painfully shy and socially awkward, the result of very overbearing parents who sheltered her and kept her pure – successfully up until she met up with me.

I wonder what they would think if they knew about me and the things we do together? I know what I would think if I was her old man, but I’m not her old man. Just an old man who feels a lot younger than he used to since he met up with Polly.

Polly never had a steady boyfriend, and although she said that she messed around with a few boys growing up, it couldn’t have been much judging my the way she kissed in the beginning, but she’s gotten better at it.

That first kiss I remember well. Polly wasn’t expecting it and frankly neither was I. I was driving her home for the second time, having “accidentally” run into her leaving work, and being a gentlemen had offered her a ride.

I knew where she lived but stopped around the corner and turned off the car, the dashboard providing the only illumination and Polly’s breathing just about the only sound besides my heart beating. She didn’t know why I had stopped there in the dark, but she was scared, and had reason to be I guess because she was about to get her first real kiss from a man.

To say Polly was taken aback would be an understatement, because after I slid over on the car seat, wrapped my arm around her and planted my lips on hers, I squinted and saw her eyes bugging out of her skull behind her glasses. She didn’t resist, but just sat there.

“I really like you Polly” I remember saying after I let her breathe for a second before resuming my attack. “You’re so pretty,” I added, saying the words that she had likely never heard before.

As I started necking with her, she began to try to kiss me back. She was awkward and had no idea what to make of the extra tongue she found in her mouth, but she didn’t resist until my hand went up to her uniform blouse, just below the little name tag with POLLY on it.

Polly’s hand came up and grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand from kneading what felt like a lot of blouse and bra and very little flesh, but while I already knew she wasn’t very well developed and not only didn’t care but was very attracted to small breasted women, Polly did care.

I apologized, explaining how excited she made Gaziantep Escort Reklamları me, and didn’t try again for several more nights, as I drove her home regularly and parked in the same secluded spot to make out like kids. In fact, my hand ended up inside her panties before finding my way under her bra, such was the extent of her self-consciousness about what she perceived to be a shortcoming.

After I had managed to undo her jeans, Polly surprised me by not only offering no resistance to me unbuttoning them but actually raising her rear end a little bit so I could cox them down a bit, allowing me to slip my hand under the elastic of her panties.

I was shocked when my fingers immediately found themselves raking through hair, and judging by touch alone, a whole lot of hair. Since Polly was 18, I knew she was certainly old enough to have pubic hair, but having spent way too much time on the Internet looking at naked young ladies, I thought that they all had taken it upon themselves to remove the fur.

Apparently Polly hadn’t gotten the memo on that, and I was delighted about that, being an old school guy in that regard. The hair was so soft that I wished it was my face down there instead of my hand, and then my finger found her opening.

“Oh!” Polly gasped when I inserted my finger into a very tight and very wet pussy, and then she thrust herself up into my hand to make it clear that she wanted it in there.

I barely had to move my hand as Polly did most of the work, thrusting her pelvis into my finger hard and fast, and her kissing got really sloppy over the next minute or so before she let out a squeal as her pussy nearly snapped my finger in two as she had what seemed like a heck of an orgasm before falling back against the seat.

“I have to get home,” Polly said when I tried to pull her hand onto my lap. “I’m sorry.”

Not as sorry as I was, but I told her that was okay and took her close to her house before letting her out of the car.

“Guess I’ll see you at the store,” I said with a sad smile on my face as Polly got ready to get out of the car.

“I’m sorry Mr. Osmond,” Polly said. “I get in trouble if I’m home much after 9. My Dad calls the store and then the cops.”

“Ken,” I said, the sound of my last name making me feel even creepier than I already did. “You are 18 though.”

“If I don’t follow the rules they won’t pay for my college,” Polly explained. “If they even saw me in the car with you, or with any boy, I’d be killed.”

“Don’t want you to get in trouble,” I said.

“Um – do you want to come back?”


“My Mom and Dad, they go to sleep right after Mother Angelica.”


“Mother Angelica. You know. The show where they do the daily Rosary?”

“Uh – I don’t watch much TV,” I said, and while that was true, I don’t think that would have been something I would have been tuning in to see, but Polly seemed surprised that I wasn’t even aware of it.

“Well, after we watch that we go to sleep,” Polly explained as she pointed over to her house. “When you see that light go out up on the the far right, that means they’re in bed. Wait about a half hour and come to the door at the side of the garage, and I’ll let you in.”

“Seems kind of risky,” I asked.

“I’ve done it before,” Polly said with a giggle.

“You’ve let guys in the garage after your folks go to bed?” I asked.

“Couple guys,” Polly admitted.

“And what is it we’re going to do in the garage?”

“You know,” she tittered.

“No, I don’t,” I said, and that was the truth, so Polly leaned over and whispered in my ear what she wanted to do to me.

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah. I know how it hurts boys when they get excited and don’t get release – you were excited before, right?”

“Oh yes.”

“Okay. 10:30 Mr. Osmond,” Polly said, and I held my hand over the overhead light as Polly opened the door and got out, skipping across the neighbor’s lawn and into her house.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, and not only because of what Polly had planned but also because I was going to come back and sneak in the damn garage for something I would have passed on back when I was Polly’s age.

Maybe it was the way she said it, or maybe it was because I was rather obsessed with the little lady. Either way, when Polly whispered in my ear, “I’ll masturbate you,” it was apparently enough.


Something about a 58 year old man sneaking up to a house to get a hand job from a girl 40 years his junior that’s just wrong on any number of levels. It says a lot about my sex life in the years after my divorce that I was actually excited at the prospect.

Other guys my age buy sports cars to ease their middle life crisis. Apparently my cure is to get jerked off in a garage, and the thought of Polly’s old man dropping down there after saying the Rosary for a half hour and catching his precious daughter with my cock in her hand kind of made it even crazier.

So there I was walking up the dark driveway to a garage door, and when I peek inside I nearly have a stroke when Polly appears in the door window with a flashlight under her chin grinning like a redheaded Jack O’ Lantern.

“Funny,” I whispered as Polly let me in, but I forgave her when she kissed me excitedly.

She was wearing a nightshirt that went down to her thighs, and my hands cupped a butt that was bare underneath the shirt.

“Naughty girl,” I said, but when my hands slid up her back I felt bra straps.

“Ssh!” Polly whispered as she set the flashlight down on a work table, and I was happy that she left it on, allowing a little light. “Take your thing out.”

“My thing?”

“You know. Your penis.”

“Oh. Well why don’t I just drop my pants and boxers?” I suggested.

“Okay,” Polly said as she shook a bottle of some kind of hand cream while she watched me unbuckle my belt and let my pants drop to my ankles.

No way was I going to take them off, no matter how dirty they might get on the garage floor, just in case I had to make a fast exit which I was prepared to do at the slightest sound from upstairs.

“Berries,” Polly said after she squirted some of the lotion in her right palm and held it to my nose for my approval.

“Very nice,” I said as I let my boxers follow by slacks. “Now how do you usually do this?”

“I like to stand at your side and do it. That way you can squirt your seed on the floor. I’ll clean it up la… wow!”

“What’s the matter?” I said, knowing exactly what had gotten Polly’s attention.

“You thing – your penis,’ Polly said in a reverent whisper. “It’s really big.”

“Once you start pulling on it, it will get even bigger,” I said, although in fact I was in a state of semi-arousal already and it would only get a couple inches longer than the 6 or so it was.

“Need more lotion,” Polly snorted as she picked up the bottle again and put some more in her palm, and I chuckled at that.

“Here goes,” Polly said, and then her little greased hand – the only hand other than mine to touch it in almost a year – grabbed my cock.

“See,” I said as my cock surged in her grip. Stroke it – slide your hand all the way down for me. That’s it. You have done this before. That’s nice. Use both hands if you want.”

Polly shook her head no and stayed at my hip while her hand slid up and down the entire length of my cock, smiling when the foreskin slid back.

“Billy Proctor – his penis was like yours,” Polly said. “Not this big though.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not circumcised either,” Polly explained. “It’s better like this because that’s the way you were created.”

“I suppose,” I said, wondering whether that thought came from her Father or Mother Angelica.

“It is getting bigger,” Polly said as my now erect cock throbbed in her grip. “Can’t even get my hand around it.”

“You’re doing fine honey,” I said. “Just keep going.”

“Are you going to shoot now?”

“No honey,” I said. “I want to make it last. You’re not getting tired already, are you?”

“No, but I like to watch it when it spurts out.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you when I’m ready,” I said, reaching down and under her nightshirt and squeezing her butt. “You’re so cute. Such a nice little rear end. How come you’re wearing your bra though?”

“You know,” Polly said softly, still watching her dainty little fist jacking off my veiny erection.

“I’m sure your breasts are very pretty,” I said as my hand moved up to the small of her back. “It doesn’t matter if they’re big or not, you know.”

“They’re not,” Polly admitted, as if I didn’t already have that figured out.

“Doesn’t matter a bit.”

“The girls at school used to make fun of me when we changed clothes for gym,” Polly said. “Glad I graduated and don’t have to do that any more. Don’t have to take Gym in college.”

“They were probably jealous because you were prettier than them,” I suggested.

“No, that sure wasn’t why,” Polly whispered. They made fun of my chest and – well – you know the other thing already.”

“What other thing?”

“On account of me being so hairy,” Polly confessed.

“You felt perfectly normal to me,” I said. “Women are supposed to have hair down there.”

“That’s what Mom says,” Polly explained. “I asked her if I could shave like the other girls do but she said no.”

“You mean you aren’t allowed to shave at all?” I asked, and Polly made a face as she shook her head.

“Not if I want to live under their roof.”

My hand was already under her night shirt, so I slid it up Polly’s back until I hit the back of her bra. There was a time I used to be could at undoing those things, and just for the heck of it I gave the back of it a little pinch where the hooks were, and the only person more surprised than Polly when it popped was me.

“It’s okay,” I said as Polly jumped and stopped jerking me off. “It’s okay. Keep doing what your doing.”

My hand slid slowly around her rib cage and then under the bra which was just draped over her chest now, and when my hand came up to replace the bra cup we both sighed.

“Oh, that’s so nice,” I sighed as I felt the tiniest breast I had even experienced, and as I gently kneaded the little bud I was very glad that I had checked her age before because what was in my hand was about the same size as a ping pong ball. “You have nothing to be ashamed off honey. Why don’t we take your nightshirt off so I can see you?”

“No!” Polly said, too loudly to suit me, and I reassured her and told her that was alright if she kept it on, so I went back to squeezing her tiny titty and feeling the nipple that felt about the same size as mine.

“You gonna shoot?” Polly asked.

“Why? Are you getting tired?” I asked.

“No, I like doing this.”

“I like it too,” I said. And I bet you like me playing with your breast too, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Polly said. “I just wish they were bigger.”

“But this was the way you were created, right?” I said, throwing some of Polly’s stuff back at her.

“I guess,” Polly said, and squirmed when my hand moved over. “Wotcha doing, Mr. Osmond?”

“Just exploring,” I assured her, and Polly giggled when I managed to work my hand under her arms and discovered that Polly wasn’t kidding about not shaving. “Oh wow! You are a furry little thing.”

Polly kept giggling but didn’t stop me, instead lifting her arm a bit to allow me to stroke the deep little crater that was full hair just as soft and dense as the bush between her legs.

“I even have more hair under my arms than my Dad does,” Polly declared. “Mom too.”

“I bet. And you’ve never shaved – not anywhere? Not your legs?”

“Can’t,” Polly reminded me. “My legs aren’t very hairy. Just a little on the insides of my calves. Hairy everywhere else though.”

“You sure are, and I think you’re as sexy as could be,” I said. “Love to see you naked honey.”

“Can’t,” Polly giggled, but while she was modest I could tell that she liked what I was saying because her grip got harder as did her stroking.

“Gonna cum soon,” I said as I went back to playing with her right titty, and Polly’s face went all animated, like the ice cream man was cumming.

“Oh!” I groaned, looking down along with my young friend as a long rope of my seed spurted out of my cock, followed by a series of shorter blasts as Polly kept jacking away and giggling maniacally until I was limp.

“You shot a lot,” Polly said as she looked at the wads of my cum all over the cement floor of the garage.

“Thanks to you,” I said after Polly let go of my flaccid hose after giving it one last pull, and then she looked at the back of her fingers where a string of my seed had ended up.

“You ever taste it?” I asked, and after she shook her head briskly no I suggested she try it. “You don’t get pregnant that way.”

“I know that,” Polly said as she made a face.

“It’s not bad, Watch.”

I brought Polly’s hand up to my mouth and took a little bit of my cum onto my tongue, and although I was more used to tasting it from a pussy than a hand, I swallowed it and smiled.

“See?” I said. “Now you try.”

I wasn’t expecting her to do it, but Polly surprised me by only putting her tongue on it but licking her fingers clean after discovering she liked the taste.

“There,” I said. “Now I bet it’s ever better if you tasted it fresh from the source while it’s still nice and hot.”

“I dunno,” Polly said, looking down at my limp cock and shaking her head.

“I bet I know what you’re going to do when you get to bed,” I offered. “I bet you’re all excited, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, kinda tingly inside,” Polly admitted.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said, looking around and bringing Polly over to a work table as I took off my shirt.

“Wotcha doing Mr. Osmond?” she asked as I set the shirt on the edge of the work table before reaching over and grabbing Polly, lifting the skinny little thing like she was a rag doll and dropping her on the shirt.

“Spread your legs honey,” I said as I lifted the front of her shirt up and grabbed the flashlight.

“Mr. Osmond!” Polly said with shock as I pointed the flashlight at her pussy.

“Ssh!” I hissed as I looked at the fiery triangle which was wild and untrimmed. “You’re right, Polly. You are a hairy girl, aren’t you?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Mr. Osmond. That’s not – OOH!”

I wasn’t making fun, but when my hand slid through her bush toward her opening, it was wet and she was squirming. I bent down and buried my face in the thicket, the pungent scent of her sex stronger than any I had ever experienced.

My tongue probed as deep as I could manage, my cheeks surrounded by her pubic forest, and then her hands clutching my skull, trying to push my face into her cunt. She came fast, and as she did I shuddered at how loud she was, and that was with her skinny thighs clamped around my ears.

Polly was squirming and wiggling around on the work bench, still riding waves of her orgasm, when I heard a voice yelling down from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps on the floor above us.

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