Illegal Illicit and IntoxicatingChapter 15
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RACHAEL WOKE SLOWLY. WARMING morning sun streamed through her open window. She relaxed, loving the feeling of having slept deeply. In the last few days she’d changed. She could feel it.
She didn’t feel anxiety at being disconnected with her friends back in Los Angeles. In fact, she didn’t miss being there. Slowly, without being conscious of it, she’d grown to like the peace and isolation here. It was nice not to worry about fitting in, being part of the right group, or trying to rebel against Mom for more freedom.
But, she missed Mom. She wished Mom could be here, be relaxed, and not constantly working to provide. When Mom was happy, she was wonderful. A stab of guilt hit Rachael. She shouldn’t have reacted to Mom dating that guy, but he was such a sleaze and Mom couldn’t see it. He’d been responsible for the big fight she’d had with Mom, and it was that fight that made her so angry she’d done everything she could to punish Mom. Maybe it was wrong. But no one should treat her mother so rudely!
Rachael sighed aloud and stretched under the covers.
Here, with Grandpa, she had complete freedom. He didn’t make her work, didn’t comment about how she dressed or behaved, didn’t set rules. He simply accepted her and enjoyed her presence.
She really liked Grandpa. He was so calm. He never rushed even when working in his vegetable and herb garden. She liked his sense of humor, too. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle before having fun was really nice. And he’d never get flustered ... except for a few days ago at the lake.
Rachael smiled at the memory. Grandpa had actually become flustered! Just remembering, Rachael felt herself respond. Her feet and fingers tingled. Her body felt hot and her stomach felt hollow. Her nipples grew sensitive to her cotton pajamas and warmth emerged in her pussy; a feeling of fullness, pulsing. Like every time since the lake, Rachael felt moisture build in her pussy, an ache arrive. Her heart beat faster.
Every time she let herself think about the lake she’d get horny. She loved that she could turn Grandpa on. It was a new skill she was proud of. Even if her boobs were too small and she felt too skinny, too unattractive, too young, Grandpa made her feel beautiful and sexy and mature; a wonderful feeling.
Rachael resisted the urge to touch herself. She liked the feeling of being horny, aroused. A spark of pleasure hit her when she squeezed her legs together.
She pictured Grandpa at the lake in his boxer briefs. For his age, he was in amazing shape. Tall and lanky, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. She liked the grey hair on his chest. It looked so soft she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over it. Why was his chest hair grey yet the hair on his head silver?
She squeezed her thighs again. Grandpa’s mouth looked so kissable. What would it be like to kiss him? She’d never kissed a guy. How did it feel to brush lips against each other? To press mouths together? That first touch of his tongue? What did it taste like to kiss a guy?
Rachael groaned loudly and rolled out of bed. Maybe being so horny wasn’t a good idea.
She found Grandpa in the living room watching news on the satellite and sat next to him, close, their arms and thighs touching. She caught the scent of cigar smoke and inhaled deeply. It smelled good on him.
“I was thinking I’d like to go back to the lake today,” she suggested.
“That’s not a good idea.”
Glancing at him, she smiled. “Even with real bathing suits?”
Grandpa shuffled slightly. He looked at her, his blue eyes warm, no crinkles of amusement. “Even with real bathing suits.”
“Why?”
“Rachael, honey, you can blame the Greeks.”
“The Greeks? Why?”
“Pandora’s box, which was, in fact, a jar.”
“Huh?”
Grandpa put his arm over her shoulders. She leaned against him.
“In Greek mythology, in Hesiod’s Works and Days, a box - or jar - was given to Pandora. The box contained all the evils of the world. Pandora opened the box letting all the evils out. By the time she closed it again, only hope was left trapped inside. Today, most people refer to opening Pandora’s box as something happening that, while it seems small or innocent, has far-reaching consequences.”
“I still don’t get it,” Rachael said.
“At the lake, Pandora’s box was opened. For the first time I realized you’re maturing into a beautiful young lady and that changed my perception of you.”
“I still don’t ... Oh.” She looked at Grandpa, disappointment rushing in. “So your perception of me changed for the worse? Like Pandora’s box?”
“No, honey. It changed me for the worse, not you.”
For a few moments, Rachael pondered it. Then she understood. “So, seeing I’m growing, like getting boobs and all, you’re a bad man now?”
When he didn’t answer, she added, “Because you liked what you saw?”
“Honey, I’ve always liked what I’ve seen in you. But, yeah. You’re beautiful and maturing and I shouldn’t have seen you like that. It brought out feelings and wishes in me that shouldn’t be there.”
Rachael thought about what he’d said. She smiled slightly. “You think I’m sexy, don’t you?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Then, with a sigh, he admitted, “Yes. I think you’re sexy and I shouldn’t. This is wrong on so many levels and, no matter how pretty, you’re still very young, not to mention related to me.”
Rachael smiled, pleased that he thought she was sexy. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s okay for me to think an older guy like you is sexy, but you’re not allowed to think a younger girl like me is sexy.”
“Life’s not always fair.”
“Does that mean we’ll never get to go back to the lake?”
Grandpa smiled. “Not until I calm down a bit.”
“Kay.” Rachael eased away from him. “I’m getting breakfast.”
She made herself a bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice. Her step was light, as if dancing. She liked the idea that Grandpa was attracted to her. It made her feel so mature and pretty. As she sat at the kitchen table to eat, her mind pictured Grandpa in his wet boxer briefs at the lake. She’d seen the large outline of his penis and couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to hold. How big did he get? How thick? What would an erection feel like?
She’d seen stuff on the Internet and heard the whispers of her friends - some claiming to have actually had sex - but it hadn’t really interested her beyond being fascinated - and uncomfortable with some of the things people did. Seeing Grandpa had changed her mind. She wanted to kiss him. Not only was he sexy and dashing and distinguished, he was in great shape. And jeez he smelled good. That hint of cigar was really sexy.
Eating slowly, her thoughts aroused her. Already horny when she woke up, she could feel her horniness intensify. It was physical; aching below, panties a little damp, her soft cotton bra feeling rough against her nipples.
Rachael understood how wrong incest was and how wrong it would be to do anything with an older guy. But this was Grandpa, not some strange old man. It wasn’t the same. Was it? No. Not if it was her that wanted to have fun with him. That’s not being taking advantage of or coerced. It’s entirely different.
Satisfied with her reasoning, her mind turned to how to convince Grandpa that some sexy hugging and kissing, and maybe touching, wouldn’t be bad. Just imagine! What would French kissing a guy feel like?
A devious thought jumped to mind. Grinning, Rachael finished breakfast, rose, and put her dishes in the sink. She had a plan.
I RELAXED SLOWLY AS the day passed. My chat with Rachael this morning had been rational and mature and nothing close to how I actually felt inside. I hadn’t been kidding about Pandora’s box. In my eyes, Rachael was beautiful in a way I’d never appreciated before; new, fresh, sweet and spicy.
My granddaughter was a female unlike any I’d known in my life. At just over five feet tall, she had a very slender body; a child’s body with impossibly narrow hips, no waist, and arms I could easily wrap my hand around. Yet now, with awareness from the lake, I saw the slight hint of her bust and knew what was underneath her T-shirt. I saw her narrow ass and knew the shape of her buttocks inside her jeans. And, Lord Almighty, I noticed how her jeans were tight to her crotch and knew the shape of her pussy inside.
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