Staci’s Gramma

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I stood at the front door, ready to ring the bell.

I checked the buckle on my black hat. My breeches. My boots. Everything seemed just the way Staci had instructed.

And then it occurred to me that this would be the first time I’d see Staci wearing a Pilgrim outfit.

Actually, it occurred to me that this would be the first time that I’d see Staci wearing anything at all since in our entire relationship, I’d only seen her totally bare. Stark naked. From the first glimpse I ever got of her – to today. And to be fair, she’d never seen me wearing anything, either.

It made me smile to realize it.

And, I admit, it gave me a twinge in my under-breeches. Made my cock thicken in anticipation. Sure, I’d seen her smooth, creamy light-tan skin. Her swelling breasts. Her amazing butt. Her carefully-trimmed pubic furr. Many times. But still. Something about the anticipation of seeing her covered up – was – well – erotic.

Not that “erotic” was anything new to us. We hadn’t known each other for very long. I spied her at the local swimming hole where the young adults congregated to get naked and party, and we hit it off immediately. I knew that she was something special when I couldn’t take my eyes off her eyes. There was her entire naked body stretched out on her towel. And I did look – starting from her toes – her carefully-polished toenails and largeish feet gracefully connected to her calves… and thighs. Oh MY her thighs totally exposed and making the sunshine glad it found her. Then up to that amazing vee of furr where her thighs met.

Except that they didn’t meet, exactly, because Staci was applying more sunblock to her legs – just as my gaze got there – so her hand was on her calf. Knee bent. Which left her pussy WIDE open to my gaze. The soft, beautiful pinkness of her labia just right *there* as I stood at her feet. I swear that I got a pretty good look at her sweet little clit peeking out from under her hood. Which made my cock swell and begin to bounce a bit.

But I tore my eyes away before she caught me staring – and I continued the vista of her body. Her young, lithe, sweet belly. The dent of her navel. The breath-taking sweep of her stomach – leading up to her amazing breasts.

Proud. Firm. Not huge, but just a really-nice handful each – topped with dark areolae and nipples that just begged to be sucked.

Then up to her neck – smooth – leading to her chin. A sweet mouth with bright red lipstick. A cute slightly-too-big nose.

And then I stopped.

Because my eyes found hers.

“and the Angels sang”

Deep pools of playful, laughing pupils surrounded by hazel. The kind of color that always seemed to change. Maybe blue. Maybe green. Maybe…

I realized that she’d been watching me the whole time.

Pulled her leg up purposely to give me a good look. Though she would never admit it.

Silently smiled at me in her mind when she saw my cock fatten and bounce in response.

Smirked at me for thinking that she hadn’t known all along exactly where my gaze was.

And just what my reaction would be when I got to her eyes.

And I just couldn’t tear my gaze anywhere else now that I’d gotten there – despite her whole nakedness taunting me to do so. My cock trying to get my attention to remind me what *it* wanted to explore.

I was a goner. I was in love.

So I introduced myself – only needing 3 tries to get my own name right, “Hi, I’m Me… I’m Magle… I’m MATT!”

Never breaking my gaze, she tilted her head a little – pretending to size me up – though I realized eventually that she’d already done that while I was 100 yards away – then smiled, gestured to the space beside her towel, and laughed “Staci. With an ‘i’. Care to join me MeMagleMatt?”

I did. And love – and sex – blossomed over the coming weeks. I quickly found out that “Staci with an i” had quite an “eye” and noticed EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING I did – and she wasn’t at all shy about nudity – or about sex. We explored each others’ bodies and experimented with what worked – and what didn’t – and then we fixed what didn’t until it did. And it was very good.

But we had always met at the swimming hole and it just worked out that we were always entirely naked by the time we met up – so we had never seen each other clothed. Funny.

So here I stood at the door to the address she’d given me – dressed as a Pilgrim since she’d invited me to meet her family (!!) by sharing their Thanksgiving dinner. It turned out that her Mom was quite the seamstress and had decided to make “appropriate Festive wear” for everyone for the occasion. Including me.

I must admit that I wondered if the whole thing was a big prank on me: get me to show up in full costume and have a good laugh, but if it was, they had gone all out: my costume included appropriate “Pilgrim underwear” which they told me consisted of a long t-shirt-looking shirt, open at the bottom – under my coat and breeches. So. Essentially nothing specifically covering my man parts under my pants: “going commando”

I bahis firmaları also had the usual kind of concerns about “meeting my family” but Staci and I had formed a real relationship and it was time to let her parents find out who she’d been spending time with.

So. I mustered up my courage and… pressed the doorbell button.

The door opened instantly. Like I said, nothing escaped Staci so she must have just been waiting inside the door while she let me stew, but I was totally disarmed by how cute she looked. Yes, she was in full Pilgrim garb as well: long linen dress, blue apron over it, cloth head-cover with narrow ties hanging down the sides of her face.

And a big smile. You’re never fully dressed without one, you know.

She grabbed me and gave me a big hug and let her hand slide down to find the bulge in my breeches. Gave me a little squeeze and slid her cheek against mine as she whispered in my ear “I’m SO glad to see you, MeMagleMatt!” She wouldn’t ever let me live down my stumble on our first meeting. But she felt so good against me that I just melted.

Particularly when, right there at the front door, door still open, she grabbed my wrist and guided my hand down to the bottom of her dress, then up. Up. UP, lifting her hem until she settled my hand right up between her legs. Firmly pressing me to her as I responded and naughtily pressed my middle finger right up between her lips and inside her for a little stroke or two.

Ummm… apparently Pilgrim women didn’t wear any panties…

Her free hand guided mine to her chest.

Hmmm… apparently bras were also absent from Pilgrim womens’ wardrobes. I found her nipple thru the fabric and pinched it a bit.

She sighed into my ear and whispered, “THAT is my man!” as we leaned back to look into each others’ eyes.

My finger remained lodged between her lips – while my tongue darted out to go between her other lips.

We just stood and held each other for a moment, then she broke away, making my finger pull out and her hem drop – as if nothing had happened.

“I hate to admit it, but clothes suit you” I opined as I licked her essence off my finger, “You look quite fetching!”

“You, too” she cooed, “I’ve missed you SO much” “But we saw each other just yesterday” I replied. “Still…” she let it hang as her hand found mine and she pulled me into the house and closed the door.

“Mom! Matt is here!”

“Well, bring him into the kitchen and put him to work!” her Mom called back.

Staci pulled me toward the kitchen – so I got to admire how the linen dress hugged her beautiful butt as her hips swayed and hypnotized me on the short trek. My eyes were still glued to her behind when I heard:

“Matt, this is my mother. Mom, this is Matt. My boyfriend. The one I’ve been telling you about” I tore my eyes away from the butt and found “Mom’s” face and eyes.

“Hi, Matt. Please just call me Maggie. Maggie Mom” Her eyes twinkled as if to let me know that she’d caught me staring at her daughter’s butt, but she just let the twinkle do the talking.

She was wearing a copy of the Pilgrim dress – but her apron was a deep Magenta. I found my face reddening a bit as I wondered silently if she, too, was being authentic by foregoing bra – or panties. And then I scolded myself for thinking that about my girlfriend’s *mother*, for heaven’s sake.

But Maggie had clearly been the primary genetic donor to Staci: fit, middle-aged body. The same “nice handful” breasts. And those eyes! Oh, my, Maggie had the same eyes as Staci and they just drew me in. Still twinkling and smirking at me.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, M-… Maggie Mom. Thank you for including me in your Thanksgiving gathering. These costumes are amazing. I understand that you made them?”

“Oh, I do enjoy sewing. And dressing up for occasions, so yes, I did a little research and whipped up some raiment for us. You do look quite good in yours. I did a good job if I do say so myself.” Still those twinkling eyes. “Well give me a hug! Even though we’re just meeting you, from all that Staci tells me, you’re already family.”

Maggie Mom pulled me into an enthusiastic full-body hug. And I felt her – full-length – through the linen fabric. Her arms around me – running up and down my back. My arms clumsily going around her and wondering if it was OK to run my hands up and down as she was doing.

And then realizing that my arms had happened to fall right where a bra strap would have been. WOULD have been.


Oh my! Apparently the “costume authenticity” did, indeed, extend to Maggie. Or at least the braless-ness.

She felt so good against me.

Particularly where I got reminded that I didn’t have any underwear myself.

I mean, it wasn’t like she was grinding her hips into my cock.


She wasn’t NOT grinding her hips into my cock.

and feeling it thicken and begin to stir

from hugging my girlfriends’ MOM for shit’s sake.

I just enjoyed the moment – breathing kaçak iddaa in Maggie’s scent – all mixed with cooking smells: cinnamon, sugar, butter – combined with whatever delightful perfume she was wearing – and her hair – tickling my nose.

And I just got lost and stood dumbly – embracing my girlfriend’s mom.

as my breeches began to “tent” over my stiff cock. Oh, goddd…

It seemed like a long long time before Maggie’s hands slid down my back one last time – and off.

but I swear that she did more than graze my butt as she parted. Her hands sure seemed to slide ALL the way down my back – on their way out.

Maggie stepped back and my brain reluctantly returned to reality.

and I suddenly realized what a spectacle I must be – standing dumb and turgid – and my eyes searched for Staci. OhMyGod Staci *had* to have seen that there was something inappropriate in my reaction to the hug. But when I found her eyes, she was just smirking at me and grinning knowingly.

Didn’t seem to be upset.

Another reason to really love this woman of mine. Wow.

I kind of shook my head to clear it, and by the time I was done, Maggie had flitted away into the kitchen and was holding a mixer and looking at me.

“So, Mr Pilgrim, nobody just loafs around in this house. Take this mixer and read this recipe and start combining these eggs and flour. When you get to the red star in the recipe, stop. I have a couple of very-secret ingredients to add – and you don’t get to know what they are!” Maggie teased. “Family secrets. Our special dishes have been passed down for generations!”

“And speaking of generations,” Staci prompted, “Matt, please meet my Gramma. Gramma Lizzie. OK. It’s Elizabeth, but everybody calls her Lizzie.”

An elegant woman breezed into the kitchen. A bit shorter than Maggie and with silver hair. A little plump. She seemed simultaneously like “everybody’s gramma” crossed with a friendly Queen Of England: somebody you felt that you should respect – and hug – at the same time. She was wearing a bright yellow apron just like the ones her daughter and granddaughter were wearing.

“Took me a little while to find the fresh rosemary out in the garden, but I got just the perfect sprig” Lizzie reported, stopping short to notice me standing there, mixer in hand, and give me a full apprisal in a split second. A quick study, Lizzie was, I guess.

“Well, so this is the gentleman I’ve been hearing so much about from Staci,” she addressed me, “It’s nice to have a man in the house today. My sweet Eric passed a few years ago and Staci’s dad is deployed this Thanksgiving. I’m glad to see that you’ve already been put to work. No slacking in this house. Well spit-spot let’s go, here! Feast to make!”

With that, she turned around to the counter and began to employ the rosemary she’d cut.

And that’s when I noticed that Gramma Lizzie was, indeed, wearing a matching apron.

And nothing else.


No dress.

No bra.

No panties.


I couldn’t help but watch her butt jiggle as she busied herself with the chicken she was preparing.



Smooth, tanned skin.

Two tea-colored cheeks right in the middle of the spectacle stretching from her silver hair – down her toned, plump, back, over her hips with those jiggling handfuls, and down her legs – kind of dancing while she worked.

Not as trim and tight as Staci, for sure, but… very pleasant to behold. And, maybe, I caught myself thinking “to be held”

OhMyGOD! I’m perving on Staci’s GRANDMA! Jee ZUS! What is WRONG with me?



I mean. They can’t REALLY be upset with me for being a bit surprised to have Lizzie be so minimalist with her costume.

Can they?

I, for the second time in recent history, reluctantly found Staci’s eyes to gauge her reaction.

She was struggling to keep from laughing. Watching me watch her naked Grannie’s plump curves. Smirking at me with those eyes of hers. Oh, GOD, Staci’s eyes.

Fortunately, Maggie Mom was turned away and hadn’t witnessed my reaction to the dress-less Lizzie, but she had to KNOW that this was a bit… noteworthy.

Staci let me twist in the wind for a bit longer, then grabbed my hand and sang, “I need Matt to help me in the pantry for a moment. We’ll be right back.”

“OK” Lizzie responded without turning around, “But be back quick…” Staci joined her in saying, “Yes. We know. No Slacking around here!”

Then Staci pulled me out of the kitchen and down the hall to the pantry.

Looked me in the eyes and just waited.

“So. Uhhh… What?”

“Is going on?” I managed to verbalize.

Staci put my hand on her boob – though her dress – kissed me hard on the lips, then smirked, “Well. My family is a little unorthodox in some ways. I mean, you know that I’m totally casual about nudity. I got that from my Mom and Gran.”

“Well, why didn’t you warn me? I mean… I kind of made a fool of myself in there.”

“Yeah. Maybe” Staci kaçak bahis let me twist further in the wind, “but it was sure fun to watch. I thought about clueing you in, but decided that it would be a lot more entertaining to just let you enjoy the discovery. Doesn’t Gran have a tight butt for an old lady?”

She laughed. A tinkling, twinkling laugh, and kissed me again, then grabbed an unmarked bottle from the pantry.

“Special secret ingredient for my green-bean dish. Come on. Back to work”

and I joined her in the inevitable “No Slacking around here!” as we padded back to the kitchen.

Then I stopped short and asked, “Ummm… is there anything ELSE that I should know?” Staci just smiled and said, “Mayyyybe” But she just kept walking and refused to say anything more. So I followed her back to the kitchen.

I still had the mixer in my hand – the whole time – so I set to following the recipe – while my other hand remembered the sweet feel of Staci’s breast thru her apron and dress. And the feel of her full, warm, sweet lips – tinged with – something… nutmeg?… on mine. Mmmmmm…

The kitchen bustled around me and it felt good and sweet and “family” to be part of such a group event.

Soon enough, I got to the “red star” part and signalled Maggie that it was her turn. She dusted off her hands from what she was doing and shooed me away from the bowl. “This is my secret part. You’re family now, but a secret is a secret! Now shoo!”

“I can use a hand over here” called Lizzie, so I shuffled over. “Damned shame” the silver vixen muttered as I arrived.

“I’m sorry. Did I mess something up?” I asked as I approached.

“Oh, no. Not you. This gravy recipe. I got it from my mother. Best damned gravy anybody ever put on a table – or on their tongue. But, as you might have guessed, there was a very very secret ingredient that she never got to reveal to me before she passed on. I have tried for years to get it exactly like my Mom’s, but I just haven’t found what it is that gave it that ‘Mom’ taste and consistency. Damned shame. Ah, well” she said as she patted my butt with a flour-y hand – leaving a hand-print right there for Staci and Maggie to see, “just stir this gently as I slowly add my ingredients.”

I set to work and was given a couple of adjustments before I satisfied Lizzie, then we settled into a rhythm which was periodically punctuated with, “Damned shame”

Soon we had it mixed and Lizzie looked at me, narrowed her eyes, and said, “I tried a new secret ingredient this year. Maybe this time.”

She dipped a finger into the gravy, closed her eyes, and sucked her finger clean, then stood absolutely still for a few seconds.

I waited.

“Damned shame” she sighed. “Ah, well, it’s a great gravy, just not ‘Mom'”

We all went back to our tasks and presently, Maggie looked around, looked again, and pronounced, “Dinner is served!”

I helped carry all of the dishes to the big family dining-room table and get everything arranged. It looked a little silly with such a big table with just the 4 of us, but it smelled great and looked so “Thanksgiving” with us all in our Pilgrim outfits.

I helped each lady into her place: Lizzie first, then Maggie, then Staci, and finally myself, and we bowed our heads for a moment and held hands around the table while Staci said grace – and we began.

The food was delicious and amazing and conversation was easy enough. Maggie and Lizzie were curious about my background and we talked without me feeling that I was being interrogated.

We were all getting comfortable with each other – and well-fed – when Lizzie looked at me squarely, then looked to Staci and matter-of-factly asked, “So, my sweet granddaughter, is this man taking care of you properly?”

Staci looked at Lizzie, then back to me, and turned those amazing eyes on me as she said, “Oh, yes, Gran, he’s the perfect gentleman.”

Her eyes twinkled and flamed as she said it and it made me feel so loved.

“No, no, dear,” prompted Lizzie, “that’s not what I mean. Look at me dear.” Staci shifted her eyes from me to Lizzie and I felt like the sun had swivelled away from me. “What I mean, dear, is: Is he satisfying you. Sexually?”

My mouth dropped open, but the ladies completely ignored it. I looked for signs of shock on either Stacy or Maggie’s faces, but, aside from a quick smirk that Stacy shot me, it seemed to be completely typical “family Thanksgiving dinner” normal conversation fare.

“Why, yes” Staci purred, glancing back and forth at the 3 of us, “Matt knows how to please a woman. I mean he REALLY knows how. He and I communicate well and we helped each other to know just what satisfies each of us the most.”

Lizzie gracefully forked some green beans toward her mouth, then paused and asked, “Well, can you give me a for-instance? I mean, just what is it that is exceptional?” She finished with a bit of a challenging look – and included Maggie in the look.

Maggie just nodded and raised an eyebrow, silently echoing the question.

“Well, gramma… Mom… have you ever heard of the G-spot?” Staci asked.

I continued to silently try to close my mouth and just go with the conversation, but I still choked a bit on a mouthful of corn.

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