Literotica Sam Jason

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Literotica Sam Jason




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Sam Jason



Start date

Aug 10, 2019




Sam (Samantha), my mother, recently passed away after a long and challenging illness. It was her wish to delete our "Sam Jason" account (membership) at Literotica, but first thank you for your support over the years. Thank you, Jason.
My condolences. Sad to see you go, but all the best nonetheless of course.





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She was bossy,
cruel, self-centered, demanding, busty, and beautiful.
All she thought
about since Dad died was the business that she started. How to squeeze
the last penny out of it, no matter what it took. That left me as a distract-
ion, a bother.
She constantly
made me do all the work around the house and only ridiculed me for my
mistakes.
I'm sure
she was glad to get rid of me for a few weeks during my Summer vacation.
"Your
Grandfather is going on a World War II reunion trip, and your Grandmother
needs you to clean the attic," she said in her usual bitchy voice.
"But,
Mom...," I started to whine just before her hand smacked across my
face, making my eyes blurry with tears.
"I don't
want to hear any of your complaining," she shouted at me.
I really
didn't want to visit my Mother's Mother, my 65 year-old Grandmother. She
was even more bitchy and critical that my Mother. I could see where that
trait came from.
So, I had
to pack up my things for a 2-week trip in the county, in a small, dull
town. I took my music and cam- era and developing equipment. I figured
I could at least take some pictures (photography was the one thing that
kept me sane) while I was there.
I took the
train, my Grandmother picked me up at the station. No family greeting
or celebration. Just: "Get your stuff and get in the car. You have
a lot to do."
I could only
imagine what chores were waiting for me. Especially in the heat. It must
have been in the 90's.
My Grandmother
was about 5'8" and a proportioned 140 pounds. She had short, straight
platinum blonde hair that really showed up against her dark tan. Her face
was wrinkled, but beautiful (except for her constant stern expression
and frown).
She was wearing
shorts, sandals, and a loose-fitting blouse that couldn't hide the two
large hills that protruded from her chest.
They weren't
standing straight out like my Mother's, but hung low, just past her ribcage.
I couldn't help but stare when she wasn't looking. They swayed slowly
with each of her movements.
Her legs
were surprisingly muscular from all the walking that she constantly bragged
to my Mother that she was doing.
"Aren't
you ready yet?" she sighed in disgust.
I loaded
all my gear into the trunk of the car and endured a silent ride to the
house.
After getting
settled in, she told me to make myself something for dinner. She went
out, and I didn't see her again until the next morning.
"Billy,
you're here to get some work done, and I don't want to hear any excuses."
This was the first thing she said. "Now, get up to the attic and
bring all the boxes in the corner down to the curb; they're trash.
Grumbling
to myself all morning long, I climbed the 3 flights of stairs more times
than I could count.
Whether I
was tired, or staggering from the heat, I accidentally bumped into a wall
in the attic and knocked a board loose. I thought I broke something and
was scared for a minute. Then, I saw an envelope stuck way inside the
wall, obviously hidden there.
I naturally
took it out, and was shocked. It was dated 20 years ago, and it was from
my Grandmother to the local Minister. I had met him the last time I visited.
The letter,
never sent, was in my Grandmother's hand- writing. It told, in eloquent
detail, of a sexual en- counter the two of them had, and how they have
to keep it secret from their spouses.
Also in the
envelope was a note from the Minister, saying he was breaking off the
relationship and was ashamed of his weakness. This was probably why my
Grandmother never sent the letter.
All of a
sudden, a plan developed in my mind. I could finally get some respect
and control over a woman that treated me like dirt, my own Grandmother.
After carefully
replacing the loose board, I finished taking the boxes out. It was late
morning when my Grandmother finally talked to me again.
"You
took long enough. Now, I want you to completely clean up there,"
she said as if it were a great bother to even acknowledge me.
"But
first, Gramma, I want to show you what I found. It's in my room."
I just turned and walked to the room I was staying in.
"I don't
have time for your games," she yelled.
I started
to read her letter in a loud voice. Then I heard her rush into the room,
her eyes wide.
"Where
did you get that, you little bastard?" It whispered from her with
hate and fear.
"You
know where, don't you?" I said shakily, my confidence not strong
yet.
"Give
that to me NOW!" Her voice raised to a shriek.
"Oh,
I will. If you do just one little thing for me."
I could see
her jaw tighten and she made a grab for the letter.
I easily
avoided her and rushed to the doorway.
"I'm
going right down to the church and give this to the Minister's wife,"
I threatened.
A look of
horror passed over her face, and a rage that scared me showed in her eyes.
She lunged again, but I started down the hall as if I were going straight
to the church.
"Nooo!
Please! Stop!" she shouted, defeated. Her shoulders slumped and said,
"What do you want?"
I went back
into my room and pointed at a paragraph in the letter. "I want to
hear you read this paragraph a- loud, but instead of his name, I want
you to say my name, "Billy", and where it says "my Minister",
I want you to say "my Grandson.""
"I won't,
you filthy, filthy boy!" she screamed.
"Then
you can deal with Grandpa and the gossip in this little town when I let
everyone see this."
She went
vacant, deflated. I knew then she would do what I wanted.
"Then
you'll give me the letter?" was all she could say.
"Yes,
if you do a good and read it as if you were saying to me. You've bragged
about being in plays, so do some acting," I commanded, fully in charge
now.
"What
do you want me to say?" she dejectedly asked.
I pointed,
and as she read the words, a shame crept over her.
"Billy...
I can't say those things... especially not talking to you... using your
name."
"You'd
better. And right now," I shouted.
I moved close
to the dresser, and she followed. I held the letter in front of her and
she read, inserting my name:
"Oh,
Billy, I'll never forget how it felt to take your penis into my mouth,
to use my tongue on you, to feel your long hardness stretching my lips.
Even though you are my grandson, I couldn't resist the excitement of giving
you your first blowjob, and finally tasting your cum as you let go. Billy,
swallowing that big load of yours was the most thrilling thing in my whole
life."
She finished,
and I let her take the letter from my hand.
She turned
at the door and spat back at me, "No one would ever believe you without
this, you filthy little bastard."
She stormed
down the hallway, and I reached behind a picture on the dresser and stopped
the tape recorder I had there. A quick test proved that I got every word
she had spoken in crystal clarity.
I did some
more work until late afternoon, took a shower, and did a little preparation
for the next step of my plan in my bedroom. My Grandmother obviously burned
the letter; I could smell the smoke. She kept away from me until about
4 PM.
I was just
wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and underwear when she passed by my room on
the way to hers.
She couldn't
help stick her head in, give me an evil look, and say, "You dirty-minded
bastard, I'll make you suffer for your little prank. We'll see how smart
you are."
I was sitting
on my bed. I looked her right in the eye, held up my cassette recorder,
clicked the play button, and out blared: "Even though you are my
grandson, I couldn't resist the excitement of giving you your first blowjob...."
I clicked
it off and watched the shock take over every feature of her face.
"You
evil creature!" she shrieked. "Give me that now."
She made
a lunge into the room, but I was far quicker and rolled over to the far
side of the bed. There was no way she was going to get the tape from me,
and she now knew it.
Before she
could speak again, I said, "Just like I gave you the letter before,
you can get this tape from me. You just have to do what I say."
"I won't
be blackmailed by you, you obscene prick!" she shot at me in a growl,
teeth clenched.
"I just
want you to come over here, and undress me completely while I'm on the
bed," I stated in a calm voice. I was starting to like being in command.
"No!
No! No! Absolutely not!" Her voice was getting louder all the time.
Just then,
the phone rang. "You'd better get that," I sang cheerily. I
was in no hurry, and prolonging her discomfort sort of pleased me.
She turned,
and rushed to her own room, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello,
Ron. What is it? I don't have time to gab with you."
It was my
Grandfather. I quietly picked up the extension in my room and listened.
He was trying to tell of the good time he was having, but my Grandmother
kept cutting him off. He also gave his address and telephone number, two
things I wrote down, just in case.
Just as my
Grandmother was about to end the conversation, I said, "Hi, Grampa,
this is Billy. I'm helping out with the cleaning in the attic."
"Billy,
get off this phone right now," my Grandmother said in her sternest
tone.
"Oh,
let the boy talk," laughed my Grandfather.
"Hey
Grampa, listen to what I've got on my new tape recorder." I held
the speaker up to the mouthpiece and played a few seconds of some non-incriminating
talk that went on before I forced the lethal words onto the tape.
"That
will be all for now, Billy," said my Grandmother in a falsely sweet
tone. "Wasn't there something you wanted me to do now?"
"Oh,
that's right," I said just as sweetly. "Goodbye, Grampa!"
I shouted happily. This couldn't have worked out better.
I heard my
Grandmother say goodbye, hang up, and walk back into my room. Her eyes
were murderous, but she looked scared, too. She knew what trouble was
on that tape.
I had positioned
myself on the side of the bed facing the windows, and just sat there.
"Come on over here and undress me. Take all my clothes off, and I'll
give you the tape.
"I promise;
just like the letter," I said. I meant it.
She came
over to the bed, and quickly took hold of my T-shirt, pulling it roughly
over my head.
"Take
it easy; slow down," I said. "Now sit next to me while you do
the rest."
She thought
for a moment and sat down. I guess she thought it would go easiest and
quickest for her this way.
Having her
this close to me was exciting. She smelled good, not perfume-like, but
clean and fresh, even in this heat.
I looked
again at her breasts, hiding under her blouse, low and relaxed. This made
me painfully hard.
"Now,
what do you want?" she asked with bitterness in her voice.
"Unbutton
my shorts and pull down my zipper."
Her hand
reached, then hesitated, and then with a sniff disgustedly through her
nose, my Grandmother, using only the fingertips of her right hand, quickly
undid the single button and pulled the zipper down roughly.
"There,
that's enough," she said, and started to rise.
"Not
even close," I smiled as I caught her arm and guided her back down
to her sitting position. "Now, pull my shorts off me." I raised
my hips off the bed.
She was seething,
but turned slightly, reached across my body with her left hand, and simultaneously
hooked her thumbs on each side of my shorts. With a slight push, she sent
then sliding to the floor. I kicked them across the floor, towards the
sun-filled windows.
There I was,
just in my thin, white underwear, which stretched tightly over the obvious
bulge of my erection.
My Grandmother
stared for the briefest moment before turning her head, standing up, and
saying: "How dare you, you vile boy!"
"Sit
down!" I shouted. "Take these off me right now!"
There must
have been something in my voice, because she sank down again, though very
slowly. She repeated the process she had just completed with my shorts,
only this time I was going to show her all I had.
I lifted
my hips, and she pulled my underwear down. My erection sprang free, standing
straight and proud away from my belly and balls. I never measured myself,
but I know I'm way bigger than the average... way bigger.
My Grandmother's
caught one glimpse as I kicked the underwear on top of my shorts. Here
I was, completely naked and next to my sexy Grandmother. I was thrilled,
but, I was only just beginning.
I reached
across her body, grabbed her right hand, and before she could react, placed
it on my throbbing penis. She recoiled in horror, trying to flee. But
I held her wrist.
"Listen,"
I growled. "You're going to give me a handjob right now."
"Nooo!
Never, you pervert. I'm your own Grandmother. I'm a 65 year-old woman.
How can you even think of such a thing?"
I knew that
this was the decision moment. Either this was going to happen now, or
I'd lose everything.
I reached
under my pillow, pulled out my cassette player and pushed the play button.
Those now infamous words poured out in my Grandmother's voice.
"Don't
you remember all you have to lose?" I reminded.
So slowly,
at first it was hard to detect, my Grand- mother again rested beside me.
I guided her right hand back to my penis, guided her fingers around it,
and squeezed her hand tight onto its girth.
I can't explain
what pleasure and excitement I felt at that first contact. My own Grandmother's
hand was on my most private area. Unbelievable.
I slowly
started an up and down motion. "Slow and gentle," I groaned.
Then, I took my hand away.
Surprisingly,
my Grandmother continued the movement. Her head was turned away, and I
could see her face was bright red, even through her dark tan.
"Now,
faster," I commanded. Her fist complied, and I staring in thrilled
disbelief at the sight of my prick being encircled by those aged fingers.
I had to
act quickly now or I would soon explode. I had one more step in mind for
my beautiful Grandmother.
"All
right," I encouraged, "now bend down and use your mouth on me!"
"What!"
she screamed. She jumped up and rushed to the doorway. "You've gone
too far. I don't care what you do or say. This is over... over for good!"
But, I was
prepared for this. I didn't chase her or argue. I merely reached over,
picked up the phone, and started pushing the number buttons. I called
out each number as I hit it. I was dialing the number my Grand- father
had left earlier in the day.
"Wait
until Grampa hears this tape," I said, looking right into her eyes
as she hesitated, half in, half out of the doorway. I swear one hand,
gripping the door- frame was all that was supporting her. She was shocked!
"Well,
you'd better get back over here and do what I said... now!" I called
out the second to the last number and punched it. She still didn't move,
so I pushed the last number and held up the receiver to let her hear it
begin to ring.
She moved
quickly, rushed to the phone and pressed the hangup button. I let her;
I knew I could make the call any time.
"No,
don't. I'll do what you want," she hoarsely whispered.
I let her
take her time, sit beside me, slowly wrap her fingers around my still
super-hard erection, and start again the easy pumping motion. Her eyes
were on my crotch now, looking at my prick like it was her guillotine.
I reached
up and put my hand on the back of her neck, and slowly eased it up a bit
into her gorgeous platinum blonde hair. I put a gentle pressure on her
head, a guiding direction to my awaiting penis.
At first
there was resistance, and then her head started to move downward.
"Please,
Billy, don't make me do this," she pleaded.
But, I just
continued my guidance, and soon I had a lovely sight: my Grandmother's
full lips were about an inch from the little bead of pre-cum lubrication
that had already formed on the little slit of my penis.
"Just
open your mouth," was all I could say. Excitement was overcoming
me, but I still had to remain in control if my plan was going to work.
Her lips
parted, and I lunged just enough to make con- tact. She recoiled a bit,
but not much. I put more pressure on the back of her head, raised my hips
a bit, and the head of my penis disappeared into my Grand- mother's mouth.
I was in
heaven, and knew I wouldn't last long. I pushed more deeply into her mouth,
but only a few inches. She wasn't sucking or doing anything. Her mouth
was more like a paper cup just covering my cock, but that was fine. "Faster,"
I said as I encircled her hand for
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