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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Wolf - 1: Meets Grandma
by Jack Rabbit (address withheld)
***
Widow Grandma Sara, lives alone on the nineteenth
century western frontier. She gets involved with Wolf,
a sixty year old traveler from nowhere, when he stops
to rest his horses. Wolf, a hard working handyman,
offers to do some repairs on her place in return for a
few days lodging. Despite evidence that he is attracted
to very young girls, she finds that Wolf is a
gentleman, and invites him to her bed. (MF, rom, voy,
mast, oral, fan, ped)
***
WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1
WOLF WITH HANSEL AND GRETEL - PART 2
WOLF AND JACK - PART 3
WOLF WITH THE TEN LITTLE INDIANS - PART 4
WOLF WITH THE THREE LITTLE PIGS - PART 5
WOLF MEETS LITTLE RED - PART 6
Author Note: This story is a work of fantasy fiction,
adapted from traditional fairy tales written as
creative entertainment, and should not be viewed as
more than a work of fiction. The Wolf stories tell of
his intimate adventures from a Grandma's point of view.
ARCHIVIST'S NOTE: The author did not supply a contact
address so we are unable to direct you to any other
parts unless they are supplied by the author.
***
WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1
Grandma Sara's Memoirs:
Out nowhere Wolf showed up at my cabin one day, riding
in from the western forests on his pinto, towing a pack
horse with all his belongings. I'm not sure where he
originally came from. Not even certain if I know his
real name. I think he told me his parents were German
immigrants that his family name was Weiss, or something
like that, but he just went by that nickname. Called
himself Wolf. That was all. Gaunt build, sixty, he had
a sun darkened complexion, gray beard and white hair,
thinned on top, I think he said in his younger years he
had a family, but I couldn't swear to it. He wouldn't
talk about his past, except to say that there were
problems he preferred not to go into.
Before I say more about Wolf, I should explain about
me. The younger people call me granny. I wish they'd
stick with Sara. That's my name. I guess granny is
better that 'Widow Sara' or 'Old Lady'. This is the
house, actually not much more than a log cabin with
rooms like a house. It is something my late Charlie
built for us, where we raised our kids, all of them
somewhere else now raising kids of their own. The place
has two bedrooms, a combination living room and dining
room, a large kitchen and pantry, and a cleaning room
where we could take baths or do laundry.
Charlie put in a fireplace and a pot-belly cast iron
kitchen stove with a big oven, plus a hot water tank so
that it was easier to take warm baths or do laundry. He
installed a water pipe straight from the nearby creek
up to the house that could be turned on or off as the
need arose. Still had to go to the outhouse for
business, but that's country life.
I'd been alone in this cabin for more years than I care
to remember, and I did all right for myself making pies
from apples I get from the orchard Charlie planted, or
from berries that grow wild on the mountain trails. Mr.
McClain, or his son Jack, come out once a week with
flour and sugar and spices and other needs in their
wagon, and go back to town with as many pies as I could
make. The ranchers and loggers and miners love my pies,
so I make a profit and do pretty well.
Anyway, Wolf rides in, just passing through, and offers
to pay me to feed and water his horse, so I invited him
to stay for lunch. The smell of my kitchen is a draw
for wanderers passing by. Usually I charge a little to
feed strangers, but Wolf impressed me. Hell, he didn't
talk that much, but he listened when I told him more
about my business than I should, and when he responded
to things I said, he made me laugh.
After eating, when he was getting ready to move on, he
thanked me. He was a handy man, and he noticed the hole
in my barn roof. He offered to fix it if he could sleep
in the hayloft for a few days and give his animals a
rest. How could I pass up a chance like that?
He fixed the barn roof, using the tools and pieces of
wood he found in the barn. I watched him intently. He
removed his shirt to work, and then climbed the ladder
with a box full of shingles and his tools. Working in
the afternoon sun apparently made him warm, as the
sweat glistened on his back. I thought maybe he was
trying to show off to get me interested. You know how
men are when it comes to that sort of thing. I wouldn't
mind a little male attention.
I dusted the flour off my apron and adjusted my hair.
He didn't pay any attention to me in that way. He was
friendly and courteous and attentive, but kept calling
me ma'am, as if I was someone's granny. Hell I am
someone's granny. Who was I trying to fool? I should be
thankful he wasn't a brute. However, as I cooked a
dozen pies that afternoon I caught myself looking in
the mirror. The ankle length plain brown skirt expanded
from a narrow waist to hang over broad hips.
I secretly wished I had worn my flower print dress.
Secured with a yellow bodice, my loosely fitting white
blouse blossomed out over the breasts. I knew the large
breasts were a sensual draw for most men. Thinking
about it made me sigh, made my nipples stiffen
automatically, pushing like well defined buttons into
the cotton. The leather vest hanging loosely obscured
that naughtiness.
I knew my shape was right. Men in town often whistled,
making suggestions I usually ignored. But, my gray hair
and facial age lines were a problem. I should put on
makeup and lipstick. That might give the wrong signals.
I went back to my cooking.
The barn roof was repaired in short order. Wolf then
cleaned his horses, set his bedroll up in the loft, and
then came to talk with me as I was preparing dinner. I
still had leftover stew from the day before, which we
both found appealing. We talked about the forest I
lived in and the nearby town. Then he offered to do
more handy work if I needed. I could use a little help.
I prepared a bath for him to use while I was outside
taking care of the chickens and cows in the barn.
Finally, at dark we said goodnight to each other. He
slept peacefully in the hayloft that night, then worked
all the next day. He repaired the porch floor, and
patched up the fence around the chicken coop. That took
the day again, so he stayed in the loft a second night.
He seemed quiet the gentleman, so my fears ebbed.
He prepared to leave the following morning, but over
breakfast Wolf suggested that if I bought the
materials, he could build me some shelves for cooling
the pies. He retrieved a drawing pad from the load he
was about to put back on the pack horse.
With a pencil he sketched a design for the shelves, a
suggestion that would offered great improvement to what
I was doing by using all table and counter space to
cool the pies when I took them out of the oven. He had
a fine touch with his drawing that made me wonder about
his past. He wasn't offering to do it for free. I'd
have to pay him a standard wage plus grub and let him
continue to sleep in the hayloft. I agreed.
Since there was an extra bedroom, where the kids slept
growing up, I offered to let him use those beds. By the
evening meal he was about halfway finished with the
shelves. He was sweaty and dirty, so once again I
excused myself to do the outside chores so he could
wash up. We had coffee and conversations, then excused
ourselves to go to separate bedrooms. I drifted to
sleep; thinking of the nearness of a man seemed to keep
me awake.
I closed my eyes to listen to the sounds of the
crickets outside. Mixed in were the metallic squeaks
from the other bedroom. The kid's beds always squeaked.
He must be tossing in the bed. I wondered if he was
thinking of me. After awhile the squeaking stopped.
Now, I may be old and dried out a little, but I still
have a younger woman's shape. Hell, what can I say? The
hair is gray, and there are wrinkles near my eyes, but
I still have a modest waist, big hips, and large
breasts.
I used to like it when I was noticed the lumberjacks,
at least until they saw the aging lines on my face.
During the first week that Wolf was here, sleeping in
the kid's bedroom, at night as I listened to his
squeaking bed springs, I frequently thought it would be
fun to be romanced again, but he never even hinted. I
concluded I wasn't his type. Maybe he was shy.
I thought about having fun with him, but knew it wasn't
a good deal. Long past menopause. I would only
embarrass myself and frustrate him. So I kept quiet. I
tried massaging myself under the blanket. There was a
tingling, but no matter how I tried, there was no
moistness. I knew my thoughts were out of line with
reality. I rolled over and went to sleep.
He finished the cooling shelves, and then offered to
repair the outhouse. He was quiet, funny, and hard
working, always the gentleman, so we extended the
arrangement. I'd bake my pies while he did his
carpentry.
One afternoon, waiting for the pies to bake, I entered
his room to gather dirty clothes and blankets to wash.
There was a rag under his bed, from the cleaning
supplies storage. Picking it up, I found it wet and
sticky. He must have spilled something, and cleaned up
the mess.
One of his saddlebags lay on the floor against a wall.
A couple of sketchbooks were half out of the saddlebag.
The title of the one on top, hand printed, stated, 'Ten
Little Indians'. I was intrigued, but didn't want to
snoop. My curiosity got the better of me. It was a
sketch book, filled with erotic artworks of young
Indian girls.
I was shocked to realize that he was arousing his
sexual desires with images of underage girls. A little
disturbed, I felt guilty having looked. I wouldn't have
wanted someone I barely knew going though my personal
things, so I shoved the books back in the bag, and
arranged it more neatly. That night, once again I heard
the bed squeaking for quite awhile.
After chores the next morning, he joined me for a walk
up the mountain trails to find berries. I brought along
a picnic lunch, figuring the best place for
blackberries was on the bluff above the lake. Next to a
birch tree was a grassy patch obscured by a flowering
bush. It offered a little shade from the sun, without
blocking the lake view. It was great place to stop for
lunch.
Figuring I would test his interest in me, I wore a
ruffled blouse a size too small to deliberately accent
the appeal of my breasts. We didn't talk much while
gathering berries, but over lunch he opened up a
little, talking about his pinto. An Indian chief gave
it to him years ago as a reward for favors he had done.
I couldn't tell if he was focusing on my breasts or
not. If he was, he was good at pretending not to
notice. I was about to ask questions about the Indian
chief when we heard voices.
Two young school girls, herding a flock of twenty or
thirty sheep, were walking along the lake shoreline. I
recognized them. One was Bo-Peep, her family owned a
sheep ranch. The other little girl was her cousin,
Mary, who had taken one of the lambs as a pet. Kids in
town made up poetic ditties about both of them. You
know, "Mary had a little lamb," and so forth.
I quietly informed Wolf who they were, but wanting to
avoid attention, we remained silent, and shifted behind
the bush. We could see them, but they wouldn't see us.
They stopped at the meadow beside the lake to let the
sheep graze. We listened to them chatter and giggle,
discussing how it was a nice time to take a little dip
in the water. When they were just below our bluff,
about thirty feet away, it became unmistakable how they
would go swimming. I felt naughty, grinning with Wolf.
We peered down, watching them remove their dresses and
under garments, hanging them on nearby bushes. Slipping
out of their shoes, they then wading into the cool lake
water stark naked.
They enjoyed splashing in the buff. It made me ponder
how, a long time ago, I had done the same with my
friends when I was a girl. Little Mary was blond, while
Bo-Peep had straight brown hair. Both had undeveloped
little girl thin bodies. Then I glanced at Wolf. He was
engrossed in staring at the girls with an impish smile
on his lips, ignoring me and the picnic.
A few feet below were naked young girls, with no
discernible pubic hair between their legs to cover
their pale vaginal slits. The lips of their little
vulvas were prominent with highlights and shadows from
the noon sun. Not much shape to their young bodies and
no breasts to speak of. Their thin chests were
highlighted with cherry red nipples sticking out.
Wolf focused with fascination, his trousers bulging in
the front. Those playful naked girls caused him to have
an erection. I swallowed, quietly studying him watching
the girls. I thought of his mysterious sketch book with
the drawings of little Indian girls. Did he feel a
similar arousal when he looked at me?
After a twenty minute swim, the girls got out of the
water, gave the sun time to dry them, then got dressed,
herded their sheep together, and wandered on in the
direction they had been walking. The show moved on. I
was curious about Wolf's arousal, but didn't dare bring
it up.
We ate our lunch, talked about my family, then returned
to picking berries. He said nothing about either the
little girls or my bouncing boobs. I took it as
evidence of his being a shy gentleman around women. On
the way back to the cabin he talked about further ideas
he had to do handy-man improvements around my place.
I kept up the conversation, but my thoughts kept
drifting back to the naked girls and his unmentioned
erection. Since he apparently was not going to make any
moves on me that seemed improper, I wondered what would
happen if I made myself obviously available.
That night I roasted a chicken for dinner after he
killed and cleaned it. I even included potatoes and
apple pie for the meal. He told jokes and stories all
through dinner, and for an hour after while we sipped
coffee. Despite my efforts to flaunt my breasts, he did
not react with anything suggestive.
He finally went to his bedroom, suggesting it would be
a good time for me to have bath privacy. I did, and he
remained behind closed door, although I could see
candle light flickering under the door at the floor. As
I lay in bed, once again, I listened to the squeaking
bed from his room.
When the sound faded, I got out of bed, donned my robe,
and left my bedroom. Light was still flickering under
his door, so I opened it. Stretched out with a blanket
over him, he was wide awake. Again, there was a rag
beside the bed that glistened with wetness. I told him
I didn't want to disturb him, or seem too forward, but
if he wanted to join my bed for the night, I would like
that. My bed was big enough for two.
Wolf had a dumb-founded look for several seconds, then
grinned slightly. He made a funny comment, but readily
agreed to my offer. I was surprised that under his
blanket he was naked and aroused already. My eyes went
straight for his male member, it was larger than what I
remembered from Charlie.
What can I say; I behaved like a tramp. In the years
since Charlie died, I had not known a man. I turned to
lead Wolf to my room, but he took my hand, and spun me
back to him. Taking my waist with his other hand, Wolf
pulled me to his naked body, and lowered his head to
kiss me, long and slow. I could feel his erection
pushing against my lower stomach through the nightgown.
Wolf moved his hands to the sides of my face as he
continued with his passion kiss, while I pulled open
the nightgown, and let it drop from my arms.
While continuing to kiss me, I felt a warm excitement
from his aroused manhood pressing into my belly.
Bending to kiss me my neck, his hand slid down my back
slowly, resting finally on my rump. I pushed back a
little to catch my breath and to reach down and grasp
his rock-hard manhood. I could feel liquid oozing. With
him standing before me, I started pumping it the way I
used to do for Charlie.
I was worried I couldn't generate enough moistness
between my legs to offer anything meaningful, but I did
enjoy rubbing him that way. He started groping my
breast, but then reached to hold my shoulders as he
uttered a groan and began erupting with several squirts
all over my midsection. He leaned back, and howled like
a wolf as he erupted. His hard member softened in my
hand and dropped to normal.
I was as aroused as I had been in years, but he was
finished already. I helped him sit on my bed, walked
across the room to get a wash rag and towel, where I
cleaned myself off. Returning to Wolf, I was certain he
was finished for the night. I hoped to lay with him and
snuggle our naked bodies for the night. That's all I
wanted, anyway. But watching me walk naked in the fire
light, I could see that Wolf getting aroused a second
time.
Thinking about the evidence of masturbation when I
entered in his room, I guessed it was the third time.
He seemed to understand my age limitations, for he
suggested I get some cooking lard to apply to his
erection. He lay back on my bed for me to start
massaging lard liberally on to his member. In a moment
he was hard and slippery, so I got on top to straddle
him, sinking down to drive his rod deep inside me.
There was considerable resistance, but it felt great
striving for the pulsating pleasure surges I had not
experienced for years
For the first time since Charlie died, I made
passionate love to a man as best I could. It seemed all
the more passionate, because he was a stranger, where I
had seduced him in an unbelievable trampy approach.
After we concluded the intercourse, it felt like I had
tasted the forbidden fruit. We took turns massaging
each others genitals.
I wasn't up to oral sex, but he was. Wolf nibbled his
way from my throat down to my breasts, taking time to
suckle each of the nipples standing up from my globes.
He nibbled my belly button, then worked his tongue
around the bush and between the lips of my vulva,
slowly licking my clit like a dog. I had been certain I
was too old to get fully aroused, but after a minute of
this, once again I was warm and moist between my legs,
and that surprised me.
Finally, he rolled me on the bed, climbed over me, and
used one hand to guide his erection into my femininity.
He had stamina and, although my body was painfully
reluctant to yield to another insertion. I had passion
I did not expect. I tolerated the pain of him inside me
as the passion of the moment made the enjoyment more
desirable than the pain that accompanies it.
I had at least six screaming climaxes from his slowly
rotating piston pumping intercourse. I quivered from
his multiple eruptions within me, giving me a feeling
of happy contentment. I was mildly lubricated until I
climaxed. As he continued pumping, my insides dried and
began to hurt. He just kept going and going. Although I
was ready to stop, he wasn't, so I didn't say anything
to end his enjoyment. After a few more minutes we both
collapsed with exhaustion. We fell asleep wrapped in
each other's arms.
During the night I was nudged out of my slumber when he
got up to step outside and pee. He returned quietly,
trying not to wake me, but my thoughts were of his
manhood, and how I had forgotten over the years how
pleasurable it was to have a man inside me. The pain of
the penetration mildly throbbed within my hips, but
once again, I began to get warm and wet between my
legs. I slid my hand down his body to his member,
finding likewise he was aroused and ready.
Without saying a word, I rolled on top of him, spread
my legs over his hips, and using my hand, I slid down
into place. Once he was in deep, securing me with his
hands on my buttocks, I clamped my legs together and
began rotating. It did not take long. The stuffiness
hurt as before, but the electric pleasures of my
climaxes struck simultaneous with his warm eruption
inside me. We slowed to a stop, two quiet grins in the
candle light, then I rolled off, and over next to him,
where I fell asleep.
The next day I could barely walk. My hips hurt from the
expansion pressures I had not made allowances for. That
evening, when Wolf was ready to resume the love making
I told him about the pain I was experiencing,
apologizing and offering to use my hands to arouse him
as best that could be. Being a gentleman that he is, he
agreed. He tried to stimulate my desires with his
fingers or his tongue in my love canal, but it would
only help a little.
When we tried to take his manhood inside, it was just
too tight and painful. We had to please our desires
with mutual masturbation. For the first time I learned
to give a man oral sex, gagging at first time he came
in my mouth, but I learned to like the feeling of his
climatic eruption. It actually tasted good.
During the days that followed we repeatedly explored
each other most intimately. I couldn't keep up with his
level of intensity. I enjoyed his sexual enthusiasm,
though I could only handle intercourse once in awhile,
and then for a short time
Although I knew there was reason to believe Wolf would
soon just move on without warning, I was getting
comfortable having him around. He was a hard working
handyman, repairing everything that needed to be
repaired, making carpentry improvements to the house
and barn where it would help. Although I couldn't deal
with his oversized penis, I enjoyed cuddling with him
in bed and the limited hand and oral molestation he
shared with me.
He complimented my uses of my hands to repeatedly bring
him to a climax. He did not complain, but I knew he
felt he was missing something. I kept thinking of the
afternoon he got so aroused watching two young girls
splashing naked in the lake. I decided I would just
accept him as an intimate friend for as long as he was
there, and not worry about when or why he would
eventually wander on.
To be continued...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 52