F**k a Gran ~ Marquis De Chalfont

May 7, 2007

As we sat inside her gloomy apartment Lady Bird regaled me with tales from the distant past. She talked of long forgotten parties, balls, functions, and unremembered social events. She had never married and there were no children, too busy for all that she said, but she had taken plenty of lovers, all dead now of course. And she had travelled the world several times over, one of the jet set, the privileged few that never have to do a days work in their entire life.

    I sat there drinking my beers and listening. I didn’t talk about myself and Lady Bird never asked. She was only interested in talking about a life that was nearly over, and I was more than happy to listen. Might help with my poetry, I ruminated, as I listened to events that occurred many decades ago.

     At some point during this trip down memory lane Lady Bird produced a photo album and asked me to sit next to her. There were hundreds of photos, weddings, family get together, pictures of her in her youth,

“Wasn’t I a stunner?” She asked after I’d seen some photos of her in a swimsuit.

I had to admit she was, long glossy blonde hair, glamorous smile, and a comely figure. I began wishing that somehow we could go back in time and she would be twenty-one again and I could fuck her, right there and then, “I would’ve steamed in back in the day.”

      Lady Bird made some strange clucking sounds, “Forget it my boy, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.  I only took the crème de la crème of society, Lords, Ambassadors, Dukes, Captains of Industry.”

Cheeky fucker, I thought, although it was most undoubtedly true.

Then Lady Bird licked her lips and gave me what can only be described as the sauciest of old woman looks, “But you might be in with a chance now my boy!”

With those words I nearly spurted a whole mouthful of beer over Lady Bird’s expensive looking photo album. ‘Might be in with a chance now?’ This old hag was taking things beyond the limit.

     Noticing my shocked expression Lady Bird stood up and began doing a creaky jig right in front of me. I clapped my hands and urged her on as she leaned back her ancient head and let a loud, long, wheezy, cackle. Drunk with whiskey she was able to execute some nimble moves and lose twenty years in the process. Then she raised her night dress high above her knees and flashed a pair of septuagenarian thighs at me,

      “I may be old boy, but my pins are in still good shape, wouldn’t you say?”

I blushed bright red with embarrassment, but had to admit that for her age they weren’t bad at all, the skin was slightly saggy, but in truth I’d seen worse legs on a twenty-year old. Then I shielded my eyes with my hand,

“Lady Bird, please lower your dress.”

The old hag dropped her filthy night dress, “Thought as much, a faggot,” she hissed caustically.

“Easy.”

    After that jaw-dropping incident the old bat got me to fix another whiskey and soda and light a cigarette for her. Then she ordered me to sit down,

“Listen boy, I want to ask you something.”

I sat there wondering what was coming next, sipping my beer thoughtfully, but saying nothing.

Lady Bird remained silent, eyeing me up somewhat scarily. Then she dropped the mother of all bombshells, a devastating request guaranteed to make your hair stand on end,

“I want you to fuck me.”

      Blimey, this was a turn up for the books, “Pardon?”

“Yes my dear, I’m getting old and I want one last fuck before I die?”

Double blimey, fuck a gran, now there was an interesting innovation, but fucked if I was ganna do it, “Lady Bird, please, you’re embarrassing me!”

Lady Bird pointed her cigarette holder at me accusingly, “What if the roles were reversed?”

“What?”
“If I was you and you were me?”
“That’s nuts!”
“What’s nuts about it? I want one last sexual experience before I depart this life, I’d say that was completely sane.”
     I had to admit it, it was totally logical, “But you’re not going to die, you’ve got years left, a decade at least.”

Lady Bird let out a series of rasping, bloodcurdling wheezes, “Bull dust, I’m on my last legs, now will ya or won’t ya?”
“I can’t!”
“Two grand says you can.”
“What?”
Lady Bird eyeballed me with steely-eyed determination; obviously her mind was well and truly made up, “Two grand, cash!”

Jesus Christ. What the fuck had I got myself into? But two grand was a lot of money and I only had to shag an old lady to get it, holy shit, “Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious in my life boy!”

Now this was a great dilemma, one not to be dismissed offhand. Two grand cash, I could do a lot with two grand, take Juanita on that often promised holiday for example. But could I physically do it, could I actually stick my cock into that decrepit pussy and pump away? I rubbed my chin, it was something to contemplate anyway, “Er, give me some time to think about it.”

     Lady Bird’s blues eyes sparkled like any ocean on any sunny day and she rubbed her hands together, “Yee- ha, that’s the sprit, I knew you wouldn’t let me down, you’ve got balls boy, I knew that straight off. Now, take a long as you need because I’m not going anywhere, and remember it will be our little secret!”

I glanced at my watch, it was three-thirty, and I was trembling with drink and amazement, “Look I’d better get back, it’s getting late.”

Lady Bird nodded like a wise old sage, “Okay, but fix me one more whiskey and soda before you leave!”

As I fixed the drink I raised my eyebrows and gave Lady Bird an imaginary salute, for let it be known here and now, that old hag was hardcore to the bone!

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One Response to “F**k a Gran ~ Marquis De Chalfont”

  1. Butter Cups said

    Long live the agile Granny! Long live the zest, the ballsy request, and the room for those with less gumption to think about it a minute…

    Nice story.

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