The Snooper


A fairly short stroker for you. In this one, Jason gets found out. He’s been snooping where he shouldn’t and his grandmother isn’t pleased.

Then it gets kinky.

I hope you enjoy the following. Feedback is appreciated. There are very likely to be some errors in the text; but I hope any which remain don’t detract from the whole.

Anyway, regardless, thank you for reading.

GA – Belize, Central America – 9th of November 2016 (the day after the US election!).


My blood ran cold. Which was something I’d heard of and read in books, but didn’t think possible in any real physical sense. Of course, the blood didn’t really turn to ice in my veins, it just felt that way when she said it.

I could tell it wasn’t a good situation when she opened the door and looked into my face and immediately said, “Jason, come in. We need to have a little talk.”

I went for the cool and casual approach, acting innocent when I followed her into the house.

“What’s up?” I asked, hoping I was wrong.

Anxiety gripped my guts. My insides felt loose because the guilt already on me while embarrassment warmed my face.

My grandmother went straight to the end of the hallway and stopped outside the last door on the right.

“In here,” she said.

If I needed any confirmation I’d been caught, that was it. Why else would she be taking me into her bedroom?

Which was the scene of the crime.

“What’s up?” I repeated, going for bewilderment. It was obvious I’d been busted, but I still had hope.

My grandmother entered the room. Walked around her big bed and stopped close to the bedside cabinet, the small, three-drawer unit at the head of the bed. She turned to confront me while I hung around in the doorway. I wasn’t inside the room, but nor was I out in the hall. I looked at her from that no-man’s land while she placed her fists on her hips and gave me one of her looks.

My grandmother glanced at the cabinet and then stared into my eyes.

“Come in,” she said. “Come on. Get in here. Don’t lurk around over there.”

“I … I don’t understand,” I stammered, real fear dragging my vitals.

“You will,” she said with a quick nod of her head. “It’ll get very plain very quickly.”

I moved into her bedroom with the demeanour of someone who’s about to be whipped. As the humiliation of my crime twisted inside me, I stepped into her bedroom with the greatest reluctance.

“If I open the top drawer, Jason,” she said. “What will I find?”

It felt like my stomach had turned to water after she said it. My sphincter loosened as reality slewed and my brain refused to admit what was occurring.

“I … I don’t know,” I said on a gurgle.

She sighed and said, “Don’t lie, Jason. It’s too late for lies. I know you’ve been in here.”

I couldn’t find any voice to reply. So all I did was stand there and gawp.

“I’ve suspected for a couple of months,” my grandmother said. “But I didn’t believe it at first. I thought I was wrong, that I’d made a mistake. But after a while I realised I wasn’t wrong after all. So I thought about it and thought about it. I fretted for ages. And then do you know what I did, Jason?”

All I could manage was to gulp and slowly shake my head from side-to-side, my gaze locked on my grandmother’s eyes.

“I had a little spy camera set up just over there,” she said as she pointed to the dressing table opposite the bed. “It’s just under the mirror.”

The shock hit me like a physical blow. I gasped, the sound coming out without me realising I was going to do it.

“Yes,” she smirked. “Interesting footage. I don’t suppose you want to see some edited highlights?”

My grandmother pointed to the tablet computer laid on one pillow.

“I’ve got it all right there,” she added.

I felt sick all of a sudden. The cold blood rushed hot and my skin started to prickle. In my mind’s-eye I pictured what my grandmother must have seen, the horror making me groan.

“Yes,” my grandmother said. “You should bloody-well groan, you dirty little shit.”

Despite the shock of being caught out, my mouth still fell slack when she spoke to me that way. She’s very forthright and isn’t afraid to voice her opinion, but she’s normally wired in tight and doesn’t use profanity of any kind. Even a mild ‘shit’ sounded wrong coming from her. It was like seeing a nun giving a blowjob.

It was one of those awful, hideous moments when you wish the Earth would just open up and swallow you whole. I was mortified by what I’d done and what she’d seen.

Ashamed and unable to look at her face, I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, is it?” she said, folding her arms. “Is that all you have to say?”

I gulped, lost for words, my head full of confusion. I had a vague notion of how it would be from then on. It would always be there between us. I could never be in her presence again without the sin being uppermost in my mind. I’d be guilty and shamed, the monstrosity with me forever.

“Duh-does anyone know?” I eventually breathed.

My grandmother scoffed a laugh, the sound of it gaziantep escort ilanları incredulous as I risked a glance at her face.

“What?” she said, eyebrows arched. “Like your mum, you mean?”

I withered under the heat of her gaze.

“What the bloody hell would I tell her, Jason?” she added, rolling her eyes. “Could I just drop it into the conversation with your mum over a coffee?” She snorted and unfolded her arms. “Imagine how that would go. ‘Oh, yes, by-the-way, Tara, did you know Jason’s been looking through my personal things? He found a dildo and a dirty magazine in the drawer next to my bed. Then he used a pair of my knickers to catch his spunk when he lay down and wanked himself off.'”

The shock hit me again. It was a quick one-two, the gasp coming up when I listened to her lewd description.

“Please, gran,” I said on a croak. “I … Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said, cutting me short before I could really start to babble. “I haven’t said a thing to anyone. This is just between us.”

I swallowed on the quick rush of relief. At least my humiliation was confined to only two people.

“Thank you,” I sighed.

“Don’t bloody-well thank me,” my grandmother replied. “You and I still need to chat. I’ve got questions, Jason. There are things I want to know.”

“Can’t I just go?” I asked. “Please.”

When I looked at her, my grandmother’s expression was a sorrowful one. She pulled a face, like a grimace of regret as she went on to say, “No, Jason. I’m sorry but you have to stay and face it. You have to face me. If you don’t stay here and talk to me, and if you’re not entirely honest,” she added. “Then I will say something to your mother. Are you clear on that? You stay and talk. You be honest. Completely truthful.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“You’ll do better than try.”

She let me stand there and stew for a full minute at least. My grandmother just stared at me, refolding her arms while I tried in vain to look for any way out of the mire.

“I’m not angry, you know,” she said after a while. I heard her tone soften and looked up to see the same in her face. “Oh, I was,” she told me, eyes wide as she said it. “But now I’m more … curious. So I’m going to give you a chance. I can’t say you can put it right. But you can try to explain. I’ll listen, I promise.”

I looked at her and asked, “You’re really not angry?”

“No, Jason, I’m not.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. Decided I didn’t have much choice and, when I let it go, when I gave up and succumbed to her will, I felt a great surge of euphoria grip me. It was a confessional thing. If I told her what she wanted to know I could go a long way to purging the awful guilt and shame I’d been feeling over the past couple of minutes.

I nodded and felt a core of steel stiffen my resolve.

“All right,” I said. “What do you want to know?”


It started with a chance glance at my grandmother’s cleavage. One day, out of the wild blue, I suddenly realised my grandmother’s feminine appeal. I’d never thought about her as a woman before. To me she was simply my grandmother. My mother’s mother. Generous, kind, never a bad word or deed. She’d been alone for as long as I could remember, her house only a couple of streets from ours. She’d been a babysitter when I was younger. Done all the grandmotherly things. Then, suddenly, as she leaned forward with her elbows on the kitchen counter at our house one afternoon, I found myself confronted with the deep crease of her cleavage, her heavy breasts not quite revealed to my stare, but with enough of their rounded fullness visible to cause a reaction down at my dick.

I’d left the kitchen and gone to my room. Masturbated to a quick and messy climax, my own grandmother’s bounty fixed in my mind.

I couldn’t switch it off. Even though I knew it was wrong, I still tugged my dick and thought about her, each fantasy time getting ever more lewd and crude until she was walking around naked. In my head I saw myself as some kind of invisible voyeur who watched my grandmother going about her daily domestic chores without a stitch on. Although, as my imaginings grew hotter, I had her in high heel shoes, her big tits swaying when she moved around the house.

It was only a matter of time before I found myself in her bedroom snooping around. I knew where my mother kept the emergency key. It was simple enough to get hold of it and trespass against my grandmother’s privacy when she was out.

The dildo and porn where two huge surprises. I couldn’t believe she owned such things.

It got to be an obsession. I’d watch my grandmother and store away the way she moved and the way she spoke. I’d stash her facial expressions into the wank-bank and recall it all while I masturbated on her bed my face stuck inside her dirty magazine. I even sniffed the dildo to see if any trace of her essence remained. Sometimes I sucked it and pictured her doing that to some imaginary lover, the images so nasty I’d squirt cum into her knickers.

Over gaziantep escort bayan ilanları the course of what was probably an hour I told my grandmother every detail after each question from her. To be fair, she took it all very well, but when I considered she’d had time to adjust to the shock, I supposed she was over the worst. What she wanted from me were the whys and wherefores. My reasons for doing what I did. Which, in the end, boiled down to plain old horniness.

“So it all began with my breasts?” my grandmother asked.

By then we were on the bed. She was sitting with her back against the headboard, two pillows behind her while her legs were straight out in front. My grandmother wore a skirt and sweater that day, and the scooped neck of the sweater hadn’t gone unnoticed by me as I’d calmed and told her my sordid tale.

When she asked me that question I was sat with my weight on one hip, legs curled behind me so I was almost sat on my feet, a hand against the bed at the end of one straight arm, the vast acreage of her décolletage and the way the sweater clung to her curves drawing my eyes to my grandmother’s chest.

I looked up to her face and my cheeks started to warm because I knew she’d caught me looking.

“Would it help…?” she started, then paused.

My grandmother let out a sigh, the action causing her chest to heave and her breasts to inflate. She shook her head and muttered something to herself.

I caught part of what she said, something like, “Just do it. Just tell him.”

“Would it help,” my grandmother asked, starting again, “if you actually got a look at my boobs?”

Astonishment is too mild a word. Amazement and incredulity and outright disbelief all mingled into one great swirl of confusion. Surely I hadn’t just heard her say that?

I gaped at my grandmother, the laugh bursting out of her as she went on to say, “God, your face! Jason, darling, close your mouth.”

I snapped my mouth closed and spluttered, “What did you say?”

My grandmother shrugged and pulled a face.

“If my breasts caused such a fuss, Jason,” she said, casual and calm. “It might help if I just let you see them. No mystery anymore. You could see for yourself and get on with your life.”

“No,” I gasped, more in disbelief than refusal. “You’re kidding.”

She pushed away from the head board and went up onto her knees. The bed dipped when she moved, my grandmother setting her balance over her knees.

“No, I’m not kidding,” she said, tone forthright. My grandmother looked at me, expression intent as she added, “I’m very serious. If I show you, you can end this unhealthy obsession of yours. I’m your grandmother. You really shouldn’t focus your sexual attention on me. There’s a word for it, Jason. A very dirty word. I think a bit of what they might call shock therapy could help you get it out of your system. Then you could concentrate on university and perhaps look at girls more age appropriate to you. Someone who isn’t in the family.”

The way she put it made it sound so reasonable, so, Yeah, sure, why not? Just show me your tits and that’ll be an end to it. No more wanking off while thinking about you in the nude. No more sniffing your dildo or sneaking a look at your porn.

“Gran, I … I don’t know what to say,” I gasped.

My grandmother rolled her eyes, hands at the hem of the sweater. She hauled it over her head to reveal her breasts, the upper slopes of which bubbled over the cups of a black bra.

I gulped and boggled, her hands going back to unfasten the clasp. Then they were free.

My grandmother’s large breasts swung and settled, their size and shape and saucer areolae swelling my cock.

“Oh, Jesus,” I said on a moan.

“Tits,” she said, hefting her breasts with her palms. My grandmother smirked into my face and clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. “God, what is it with men and tits?” She jiggled her boobs to make her flesh shiver, then actually thumbed at her nipples. “There you are, Jason,” she added. “Are they like you’d imagined?”

I croaked out a no and shook my head, my eyes locked on her boobs.

“They’re better,” I moaned.

The laugh she let out sounded delighted. Then my grandmother smiled at me.

“Thank you,” she said.

I looked at her face an instant before she moved. My grandmother’s expression seemed odd. Her brow was furrowed and she had a very strange look on her face. It was something I’d seen before, but never on her, and it didn’t make sense that she was looking at me that way. Then she was leaning in, her breasts swinging as she shifted and pecked a kiss at my cheek.

The next words to come out of her mouth were clotted and thick and, again, although I recognised the tone of her voice, the timbre strange to my ears because it had come out of her.

“You know,” she said, “since you imagined me naked…”

I knew the implications of that half-finished statement although my mind refused to accept that she meant it.

“Yuh-you can’t,” I gasped. It was escort bayan gaziantep ilanları the same reaction I’d had before. I wasn’t refusing the offer outright; I just couldn’t believe it was true.

“Sweetheart, I can.”

And then she was on her back, heels against the bed as she made a bridge with her torso, her shoulders against the mattress, hands at the zip of the skirt. A moment later it was on the floor where she’d cast it aside, and what followed next is the single most shocking event of my life. It was the sight of my grandmother gazing at me with lust in her eyes as she lay on one side and spread her legs.

“There’s the pussy,” she said on sob, yanking her knickers aside.

It was the latest shock in a series of shocks, the next coming at me straight away.

It’s fair to say my jaw was on the bed while my eyes bulged as I took in the truly amazing sight of my own grandmother flaunting her vulva, the folds thick and meaty, her sex scarlet and slick with her need, the tiny patch of hair at the apex of her cleft all that remained of her pubic bush.

“I had it waxed for you,” my grandmother said. “I’ll ask you a simple question, Jason,” she added, flicking the folds with a finger. “Do you want this pussy or not?”


Our first kiss came a couple of minutes later. My grandmother had asked the question and taken my choked reply as a yes. Then she’d moved off the bed and turned to show me her rump as she peeled off her knickers. With her underwear gone, she stood at the side of the bed, fists on her hips.

“Take your clothes off,” she told me. “I’m bare. I want you naked as well.”

It felt surreal to me as I did as she said, then we were on the bed, facing each other, her hand on my cock.

“When I saw this big thing I went all gooey inside,” my grandmother revealed.

I groaned because it felt so good to have her stroking my dick.

“I tried to stop thinking about you, Jason,” she said. “But now I don’t care. I’m going crazy because of what I saw you do. It’s so fucking wrong, I know, but I can’t help it. I just need to feel you inside me.”

“You’re lovely,” I moaned.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Darling, I’m fifty-nine. It isn’t all tight and perfect, I know.”

“You’re kidding,” I said on another moan. “Your body’s gorgeous. You’re so pretty.”

Which is when she kissed me. My grandmother wanked my dick and pushed her tongue into my mouth. She murmured what sounded like appreciation and kept working her fist over my length, my hands finding her breasts and her buttocks as I explored her body and, when my fingers went into the molten heat between her legs and I heard her gasp, my cock spat semen over her stomach.

My grandmother yelped when the burst hit her body.

“You’re coming!” she squeaked. “God, Jason, it’s going everywhere!”

I didn’t care. I was lost in the bliss. It didn’t matter to me that my semen was hitting her thighs and her forearm and splashing down onto the bed. I groaned and gasped and fucked at her fist, my mouth going to hers so I could gasp my joy as we kissed.

To her credit, she returned the kiss and kept on jacking at me until I was spent. Then we both looked at each other, expressions shocked and amazed as I wondered about what I’d done.

“You know we’re going to fuck, don’t you?” she mumbled to me. “Incest,” she added, hissing the word. “God, it’s so bloody dirty…”

My grandmother’s grin looked feral when I saw the glint in her eyes.

“Our secret,” she added, kissing my mouth.

“Can we do it now?” I asked, ready and keen.

“Really?” she said. “But you’ve only just come.” Then she rolled her eyes and let out a laugh. “God, I forgot. You’re nineteen. You’ll stay hard forever, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“I will with you,” I growled, emboldened by lust.

My grandmother grinned again. She nodded and looked down at the bed.

“Make it fast and hard,” she said as she lay on her back. “Just fuck me,” she moaned, splaying her folds. “Don’t hold back, Jason. I want you to smash me. Ruin my cunt with that gorgeous big cock.”

Her use of profanity shocked me all over again. Despite being where I was, naked, with her, regardless of the fact I was about to sink balls deep into my own grandmother, it was still odd to hear the filth come out of her mouth.

But it stirred me on a carnal level which had my cock pulsing with need for her body. I settled over my grandmother and took the weight on my arms. She reached down and took me in hand, moaning and squirming while introducing the big dome to her sex.

“Oh my, God,” my grandmother gasped as she looked at my face. “We’re going to fuck. Oh, Jesus, I’m really going to fuck you.”

The moment hung between us. I stared at her eyes, tender emotions swelling my throat.

“I love you,” I moaned.

I saw her nod.

My grandmother’s throat worked as she gulped and then went on to say, “I love you, too, darling. But now I just want you to fuck me into the bed. Use me, sweetheart. Oh, Jason, just fuck me.”


We kissed as we rutted. My grandmother had her legs folded at the knees as she shunted her rump over the bed and fucked up onto my cock. I went up and gave it to her like she’d demanded I do, my stare set on where her breasts rolled and shivered, her nipples tight pebbles of arousal in the pale disks of their areolae while we fucked. Her pussy squelched around my girth, her gasps and moans coming up, her finger working down at her clit.

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