Russian grandmother and boy. Grandmother spoils her grandson

If you like older women and feel the need for a strong-willed and gentle hand As an experienced “mommy”, the idea of ​​seducing such an adult lady has probably come to your mind more than once. You can be attracted to anything about her: her experience, mental maturity, responsibility, character, facial contours and body shape. Don’t be afraid of this if your interest in an older woman is stronger than your desire for young girls. For you, she is charming and attractive, you play out the most daring stories with her in your mind, so why not try to seduce her?

Unlike young girls, whose life experience is usually very limited, older women usually know what they want. They know what makes them attractive, what men pay attention to, what to wear and how to “present” themselves. This is good because you are much less likely to have to listen to her naive worries about “nobody understands me” or “I don’t know what to wear.” In addition, it is generally more pleasant and interesting to communicate with such a lady than with a capricious young beauty with unformed views on life.

Sexual attraction in mature women usually higher than those of twenty-year-olds. If they like a man, they can easily approach him and begin to provoke him with gestures, intonations, and posture. Therefore, if you feel a strong attraction to a certain person, perhaps this is partly due to her.

How to seduce an experienced lady

The first thing you need to do to seduce any woman you like is to approach her and get to know her. If you stand quietly on the sidelines and just watch her, without even trying to show minimal activity, your fantasies will remain fantasies. Therefore, pull yourself together and act boldly.

To seduce a woman, make her feel special, desired, and show interest in her. Show her that you like her and feel sexually attracted to her, and then, if it is mutual, you may not even have to make much effort: she will do the rest herself.

What problems may await you in a relationship with an accomplished woman?

An older woman usually has her own habits and outlook on life. This is also accompanied by: an established social circle, girlfriends, relatives, possibly children, husbands and lovers, problems at work... In addition to you, she, as a rule, has many more things to do. And in you she can see an eternal “boy” who needs to be raised, looked after, taught everything all the time, but who pampers her with his attention and quenches her sexual hunger. In addition, you should prepare for unexpected, sometimes unpleasant reactions to your relationship from other people. Are you ready for such tests?

"I was spoiled by love" If you think that my grandmother is a broken, vicious woman, you are very mistaken. She is the standard of good manners and elegance, restraint and intelligence. It just so happened that my grandmother raised her daughter - my mother - without a husband. Some young scoundrel, having seduced a young excellent student, disappeared forever as soon as he learned about her pregnancy. Having mourned broken dreams, grandma took fate into her own hands. She gave birth to spite her strict parents, who talked day and night about her shame, and devoted herself entirely to her only daughter. This beauty had many fans, but she was adamant: “No more man will enter my life!” And then I appeared in grandma’s life - “her main man" I heard this phrase from my grandmother probably a million times. My mother also doted on me, but unlike my strict grandmother, she highly encouraged male advances, which is why she often quarreled with my grandmother, who believed that pride was the most important thing in a woman.

Youthful passions We were with grandma great friends. I had no secrets from her, she knew about all my loves, starting with kindergarten. When, in the ninth grade, a frenzied interest in girls awoke in me, I did not know what to do with myself. I always thought that I could make anyone my friend. Maybe it would have been so, but I began to need girls so much, I wanted to please them to such an extent that I simply got lost in their presence. Oddly enough, it was my grandmother who helped me in all sensitive issues. When I admitted to her that I was a complete ignoramus in relationships with the female sex, she taught me to like him. Day after day, we had frank conversations with her about what a woman wants. Granny revealed to me all her secrets, the secrets of her friends, and retold the confessions of others, which she, as a doctor, had listened to enough of. And gradually my wise grandmother moved on to the most important thing that interested me then - how to seduce a woman. I won’t retell all the intimate details of our home lessons about erogenous zones and excitement. The main thing happened when I lost my head over my grandmother as a woman. I begged her... And everything happened - for real.

It only happened once After that night when my beautiful grandmother made me a man, our relationship changed. Not spoiled, no. But since then she never spoke to me on “free” topics and did not even allow herself to be hugged. My grandmother responded very sharply to my offended bewilderment: “It was a lesson, and nothing more. The training is over, you now know all women's secrets. You don't need me anymore." You can’t imagine how much I suffered and yearned for her. It even seemed to me that I was in love. But grandma quickly put everything in its place. I started it very soon - for the first time in my life! - lover. Then she had a second admirer, then another, and it was as if she had burst out. She ceased to be an exemplary grandmother, and I ceased to be an exemplary grandson. And with her light hand I got a bunch of girlfriends and became known as a great lover. But still, hand on heart, no one, not even my bride, can compare with my first woman, beloved since childhood.

Yuri Kuvaldin

PLEASURE

story

On a June evening, in a summer cafe under the crowns of old trees in Izmailovsky Park, Mikhail Ivanovich was congratulated on his seventieth birthday, and his thirteen-year-old grandson, Boris, dedicated his poem to him, which began with the line:

Think about it, grandpa, seventy is not old...

He composed this and recorded it on his mobile phone while he was walking from Partizanskaya to the park. Boris was seated between his mother and grandmother, the wife of the hero of the day, Tamara Vasilievna, a young-looking woman with a lush, dyed hairstyle.
After the first toast, Tamara Vasilyevna, looking around the table, called the waiter standing at her table and said:
- I want trout fried on coals!
Mom’s father, grandmother’s husband, grandfather Mikhail Ivanovich looked at her with concern and only said:
- Tamara...
But she immediately blurted out:
- And no talking. Understood? I don't want any conversations!
“Mommy, I want it too,” Boris’s mother said to her mother, Boris’s grandmother.
Apparently, Tamara Vasilievna belonged to those old women who know how to command with sweet arrogance if they are obediently obeyed, but who, at the same time, are easily timid.
After several toasts, the drunken Tamara Vasilyevna began to examine Boris with keen interest, until she finally kissed him on the cheek with thick red lipstick and said with a breath:
- How handsome you are, Borenka!
She could be understood, since she had not seen her grandson for five years, because she lived with her grandfather in Kyiv. Now they have managed to exchange Kyiv for Moscow, for 9th Parkovaya.
Boris even blushed from surprise, and during the dance, to which his grandmother pulled him out, she pressed him tightly to her large chest and dared to stroke his cheek with her palm.
She said:
- Well, tell me, tell me how things are going with you at school, what you think about doing after school... I really want to listen to you, Borya... I really want to talk to you, granddaughter...
“I want it too, grandma,” Boris said for the sake of decency.
- Well, that's good. It’s stuffy here, let’s get some air... You get up and go out to breathe. And I'll be out in about five minutes too...
Boris himself wanted to go out and smoke so that his mother wouldn’t see. The fact is that he started smoking a month ago, and he was strongly drawn to it. Behind the cafe there were thickets of bushes and trees. Boris lit a cigarette, turned away, and secretly took several deep puffs, feeling his soul feel even better than from drinking a glass of champagne. In general, Izmailovo Park looked like a dense forest. Soon Tamara Vasilievna appeared.
“What an adult you are,” she said. - Let's take a little walk, breathe...
She took Boris by the arm, and they walked along the path into the thicket. Having walked a certain distance, Tamara Vasilievna sank onto a wide stump and turned to Boris, who sat down on a nearby log. Light dress Grandma's was not long and ended at her knees. Boris listened attentively to what Tamara Vasilyevna said about studying, about choosing a path, about Kyiv and Moscow, but her knees were in front of him and inevitably attracted attention. They were very beautiful, not angular, but smoothly flowing into the hips, a piece of which was noticeable from the side. Everything else was hidden from his sight.
Then Tamara Vasilyevna started talking about how Borya was already an adult, that he needed to know how to behave with women, and he looked at her plump knees with curiosity, probably thinking about his grandmother as a woman for the first time. Indeed, she was attractive, with a fashionable hairstyle, with long eyelashes, with manicure, with rings and bracelets.
Grandmother was short, wide in the hips, and in general was a plump woman with quite big breasts. But the figure, despite its plumpness, was quite slender with a noticeable waist. Continuing to admire his grandmother’s round knees, Boris began to crawl from the log onto the grass, leaning on the log with his elbows pulled back. Grandma didn’t seem to notice, she just spread her legs slightly. Afraid to believe in his luck, Boris timidly lowered his eyes and saw from the inside almost completely her full, smooth thighs and a small part of her belly, which hung in a rather large fold and lay on her hips. This picture took Boris’s breath away, and even what it said about Boris growing up ceased to interest him completely. Afraid to move, he admired the opening picture, and his imagination painted what was hidden from his eyes. Here Tamara Vasilievna herself spread her legs wider.
Now he could not see her stomach, but her legs became fully visible. Since she was sitting with them spread wide, he saw how her wide, thick thighs were spread out on the stump, and, following his gaze further, he saw how they gradually came together. The further between the legs, the darker it became, and almost nothing was visible at the junction of them.
Boris's throat became dry, a blush appeared on his cheeks, and an incomprehensible and very pleasant movement began in his pants; his boy, from a small faucet, began to turn into something quite large and relatively thick, sticking up.
The sight of Tamara Vasilievna’s knees and legs was so seductive, they were so alluring that, forgetting about everything, at first Boris carefully touched them with one finger and began to move them back and forth over the knee, as if he was drawing or writing something.
Tamara Vasilievna did not pay any attention to this, and the inspired Boris continued his task with a few fingers. Seeing that this also seemed normal, he placed his entire palm on her knee. It turned out to be very pleasant to the touch, tender, soft, with a slightly rough skin and a little cold.
At first, Boris’s hand just lay there, but then he began to move it a little, at first by one or two centimeters. Gradually he stroked more boldly, moving his hand along the entire knee. The grandmother still did not pay attention to her grandson’s activity, or pretended not to pay attention.
Then he completely slid off the log onto the grass, and as a result his hand involuntarily slipped from his knee and slipped into the space between his thighs. At first, Boris was very scared, but he did not remove his hand, but simply moved it away from his leg and began to touch the surface of the thigh only slightly, with a few fingers.
Afraid to look his grandmother in the face and that she would notice from him what was happening to his grandson, Boris listened and was surprised to find that she continued to talk about his future. True, it seemed to him that Tamara Vasilievna’s voice changed a little, became a little hoarse, as if her throat was dry and she was thirsty. Having convinced himself that since his grandmother continues to raise him, then everything is fine, Boris pressed his entire palm to the inner surface of his thigh. This surface turned out to be softer and much warmer than the knee, it was very pleasant to the touch, I just wanted to stroke it. And, as in the case of the knee, at first carefully, and then more and more boldly, Boris began to move his palm back and forth. He liked this activity so much that he no longer noticed anything around him. Stroking and feeling the pleasant warmth, Boris gradually moved his hand further and further. He really wanted to touch her hair and move his fingers there. Gradually he succeeded. His hand first came across solitary hairs, stroking and fingering them, he gradually reached the thicker ones, at the very top of the thigh.
At this time, Boris noticed that something had changed around him. Looking up from what he was doing for a second, he realized that his grandmother had fallen silent, and it was this silence that alerted him.
Without raising his eyes or removing his hand, Boris saw with his peripheral vision that his grandmother had closed her eyes, and on the contrary, her lips were slightly parted, as if she had stopped her speech mid-sentence. Here, noticing this, Boris froze, even got scared. But the grandmother did not say a word, but only threw her hands back, to the edges of a wide stump, and leaned on them. And Boris realized that Tamara Vasilievna also wanted him to continue stroking.
This encouraged Boris, gave him courage, and he carefully began stroking her hair, expecting to stumble upon her panties, but there were none.
“It’s very hot,” the grandmother said, noticing his surprise, in a trembling and quiet voice.
Boris was fingering his hair, his hand was already moving in the groin itself, it was even warmer and a little humid there. There was much more hair, his whole hand was buried in it. Then Boris noticed that the grandmother was trembling a little, some kind of cramps were running through her legs, and they parted a little and came together. Lowering his hand lower, Boris finally felt what he wanted to touch. Under his hand was his grandmother's lily! It was incredible, even in his dreams Boris could not imagine it. Her thick secret lips were clearly felt; they were very large, swollen and barely fit under his palm. Boris began to more energetically stroke them with his hand and move his fingers, trying to embrace and explore them.
Tamara Vasilievna’s breathing became more frequent, deeper, and Boris thought he even heard it. And immediately after this, the grandmother herself began to move under his hand, fidgeting with her curvy ass on the stump. She stopped for a moment, pushing Boris back, and slid onto the grass. Her hairy womb pressed closely against Boris's hand and moved in all directions. Under his hand it suddenly became very wet, but from this the movements became lighter and more gliding, Boris felt her large lips parting and immediately his fingers fell inside, into the wet, warm and very tender cave, sliding there, causing the grandmother to scream. Both grandmother and grandson began to move together in rhythm, he with his fingers, and his grandmother with her hips, swaying her huge buttocks.
During all this time they did not say a word to each other, as if they were afraid of frightening and disturbing with careless words what was happening between them. But gradually Boris became completely uncomfortable, his hand became numb, and, probably, his grandmother was also tired of sitting in one position. Without saying a word to Boris, she lay down on her back, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees like the letter “M”, her dress was approximately at the level of her stomach, revealing all her charms. Boris also turned over a little, lay down more comfortably, and moved closer. Her legs in beautiful high-heeled shoes lay on display in all their glory - slightly hairy calves, knees, thick thighs that were spread and her wet, swollen lips were right in front of him. But now Boris’s attention was attracted by what was above, he wanted to see his grandmother completely naked.
Boris put his hand on the very bottom of his stomach. It was very soft to the touch, easily bending under his hand. He began to stroke it, knead it, gradually move his hands up, lifting up the dress. First he saw her deep navel, then her entire belly. It was large, soft, flaccid, some strange veins ran along it, it was quite ugly and not at all like his. But it was precisely such a belly - of a plump, adult woman - that attracted his gaze, exciting Boris even more.
Having looked at him enough and seeing that the grandmother did not object and allowed all his actions, he jerked the dress up his neck, got rid of the bra and saw her breasts. Boris was amazed that she was much smaller than he expected. It seemed to him that it should be large and stick out upward. After all, this is exactly what she was like when grandma walked, and her chest swayed as she walked. Her big tits somehow spread all over her body, and blue veins ran through them in thin streams. The nipples were brown, large, shriveled and stuck up. Boris carefully touched one tit, then the other, and they swayed following the movement of his hand. He put his hands on them, began to knead and feel. They turned out to be very soft and flaccid, but, nevertheless, it was very pleasant to caress them. Sometimes his hands would brush against her hard, large nipple, further intensifying her arousal. Boris was already lying almost next to his grandmother, and she was all naked in front of him. That was incredible!
Then her hand moved, and Boris froze, but the grandmother carefully unzipped his jeans and put her hand there. Boris lost his breath, it seemed as if something was about to break inside him. The grandmother's fingers gently stroked his testicles and the bench, which was very tense and sticking up. Boris experienced incredible pleasure from her movements; the whole world was now focused only on the movements of her hands. Boris even stopped caressing her and simply admired her body.
Then the grandmother parted her lips and said something barely audible, and he guessed rather than heard her words and, leaning over, kissed her breast. At first, carefully, then more and more boldly, he kissed her soft and warm tits, slightly salty in taste, like a baby enjoying his grandmother’s breasts, he took her into his mouth and sucked, biting her nipples. At the same time, he convulsively kneaded and squeezed her sides with his hands, running his hands along the folds of fat on her thighs and fingering them.
Tamara Vasilyevna was moaning louder and louder, her desires were growing. Boris lowered his hands down and began to knead and squeeze her little baby, no longer carefully, but forcefully and maybe even roughly. The Gates of God were all wet, and Boris's hand literally squelched in this swamp. Here grandmother’s arms gently hugged Boris and pressed him to her, then she lifted him and laid him on top of her. Boris felt very comfortable and good, grandma was big, warm and soft. Boris felt all of her underneath him, her native body close to him, which now belonged to Boris, her big breasts, stomach, thighs on which his legs lay. It was delicious.
But between his legs there was a real fire and itching, and instinctively he began to move, trying to relieve this burning, moving back and forth over the naked body of his grandmother. But instead of relief, the itching only got worse. The grandmother also moved under her grandson, her movements were more powerful. She unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, then lifted his shirt so she could see his stomach and chest. Her bottom moved from side to side, and his legs finally fell from her hips to between her legs, Ben pressed tightly against her lower abdomen. The grandmother was still hugging Boris with her arms, but suddenly she began to move his body down, and he already thought that the games were over, but as soon as Yasha fell off her stomach, she stopped moving Boris and just hugged him.
Their movements continued, but the grandmother was no longer moving from side to side, but raising her butt, she ran into Boris, while his van rested between her legs, feeling moisture and warmth. The grandmother’s moans intensified even more, and it seemed that she was losing control of herself, her cheeks turned pink, her eyes were half-closed, her lips sometimes said something, but Boris could not understand what exactly.
Suddenly, after one of the movements towards him, Boris realized that he was right between her big thick lips. Considering the small size of his teenage Adam and the large, adult size of his grandmother, this was not surprising. Boris’s sensations intensified, Vanechka felt very pleasant, it was warm, humid, and he wanted this warmth and moisture to always envelop him from all sides. At this time, the grandmother also felt it in herself and stopped moving for a moment. Perhaps she did not want to let him go, or some doubts suddenly took possession of her. But after a momentary lull, instead of moving back, she raised her buttocks, and his red-hot phallus entered her completely. It was an indescribable feeling. The grandson's rod was in the grandmother's vase.
Boris lay on her large body, wrapping his arms around it. The grandmother put her hands on his hips and began to move Boris, now pressing him, now pushing him away a little, as if showing him what he should do, and gradually it came to Boris.
And Boris began to independently make movements back and forth, rising above his grandmother’s body. And at that time she began to move her butt towards him, rotating it from side to side, her pubis pressed closely against him and rubbed furiously and strongly. The grandson plopped down on her large and flabby belly, but he felt very soft and pleasant. Tamara Vasilievna moved more and more furiously under him, her body did not remain in place for a second, hugging and stroking her grandson, she moaned loudly. His halyard seemed to fall into some kind of hole, rubbing against the wavy walls of her vagina. They both had already forgotten about everything and entered each other with force. Her plump body arched and fell, forming fat folds that her grandson squeezed like crazy.
Suddenly the tension in the phallus grew to the maximum, Boris felt dizzy, he tensed, and something suddenly came out of him, devastating him, his strength left him. He felt delight, extraordinary pleasure, relief. The grandmother, noticing the tension in his ball, twitched furiously, her thighs squeezed him very tightly and painfully, she uttered some incredible moan, sound, wheezing, and gradually her movements began to subside. Boris simply lay on her, exhausted, and maybe already unconscious from everything that was happening.
After some time, straightening her dress, Tamara Vasilievna said:
- You should know that this did not happen. Never tell anyone...
“Okay,” Boris stammered, calming down.
We were silent. A crow squawked high above them.
Literally a second later, abruptly looking away, the grandmother exclaimed:
- Squirrel!
And then the cell phone rang. Boris, not without respect, asked his grandmother whether to answer - maybe it would be unpleasant for her? Tamara Vasilievna turned to him and looked as if from afar, tightly closing one eye against the light; the other eye remained in the shadows - wide open, but by no means naive and so brown that it seemed dark blue.
The cloudless sky was visible in the gaps between the crowns of motionless, venerable birch and linden trees.
The fluffy-tailed red creature sat on its hind legs on the path, and made pleading movements with its front legs.
Boris asked to hurry up with the answer, and Tamara Vasilievna left the squirrel alone.
- Well, you have to! - she exclaimed. - This is him, for sure!?
Boris replied that, in his opinion, whether to say or not, one hell of a lot, he sat down on a stump next to Tamara Vasilievena and hugged her with his left hand. With his right hand he raised the phone to his ear. The sun slantedly illuminated the forest. And when Boris raised the phone to his ear, his brown hair was lit especially favorably, although perhaps too brightly, so that it seemed red.
- Yes? - Boris said into the phone in a sonorous voice.
Tamara Vasilievna, experiencing pleasure in the hug, watched him. Her wide-open eyes reflected neither anxiety nor thought, all that was visible was how large and black they were.
A man’s voice came through the receiver - lifeless and at the same time strangely assertive, almost indecently excited:
- Boris? It's you?
Boris glanced quickly to the left, at Tamara Vasilievna.
- Who is this? - he asked. - You, grandpa?
- Yes I. Borya, am I not distracting you?
- No no. Something happened?
- Really, I'm not bothering you? Honestly?
“No, no,” said Boris, turning pink.
“That’s why I’m calling, Borya: did you happen to see where grandma went?”
Boris again looked to the left, but this time not at Tamara Vasilievna, but over her head, at the squirrel running along the branches.
“No, grandpa, I didn’t see it,” said Boris, continuing to look at the squirrel. - And where are you?
- As where? I'm in a cafe. The party is in full swing! I thought she was here somewhere... Maybe she was dancing... I literally searched for Tamara...
- I don’t know, grandpa...
- So you definitely haven’t seen her?
- No, I didn’t see it. You see, grandpa, I had a headache for some reason, and I went out to breathe... So what? What's happened? Granny lost?
- Oh my God! She was sitting next to me all the time and suddenly...
- Maybe she just went out to get some air? - Boris asked with a delay, as if thinking out loud.
“I wish I’d ​​come back already, she’s been gone for about twenty minutes.”
“So quickly did all this happen?!” - thought Boris.
“Listen, grandpa, don’t be so nervous,” Boris said calmly, like a psychotherapist. -Where can she go? She’ll take a walk, freshen up and come back... Now she’ll come.
- So you haven’t seen her, Borya? – Mikhail Ivanovich insistently repeated the question.
“Listen, grandpa,” Boris interrupted, taking his hand away from his face, “I suddenly got a terrible headache again.” God knows why this is. Will you excuse me if we finish now? We'll talk later, okay?
Boris listened for another minute, then turned off the phone and put it in his pocket. And Tamara Vasilievna said:
- Borenka, pleasure is everything, exactly everything that is contained in the world, love is embedded in every person by a persistent need, desire. Every person pursues pleasure and happiness and, in the end, finds his own happiness...
Tamara Vasilyevna fell silent, looked at him without blinking, with admiration, and opened her mouth slightly, and Boris leaned towards her, put one hand under the hem to the black bush, put the other on the back of her head, pressed her wet lips tightly to him, and kissed her passionately.

(Events unfold in Tula from 1964-1994)

This erotic novel in 36 stories is written based on the diaries of Evgeniy Schwartz, who emigrated to Israel in early 1994. In this work, the names and surnames of the characters and specific places of individual historical actions have been changed, and the time of the unfolding events has been changed in some way. And the rest, I assure you, everything is pure and frank, the truth, although very bitter in some places, but...
At that distant time, the settlement of Tula was not particularly different from other similar provincial Russian cities. He was not too religious, rather of patriarchal traditions, with old habits and new emerging young talents. And therefore, all these incredible events could happen in any corner of Russia, with any little boy, and subsequently with a young man, a man. But still, most of these stories happened directly in Tula and not with anyone, namely Zhenya Schwartz. Many adult men and women will probably remember similar incidents from their distant childhood and early youth. There will be, of course, orthodox readers who will pretend to be indignant and say that this has never happened to them and that, in essence, it cannot happen. But I just don’t believe them!
Please make yourself comfortable and get acquainted. This little boy's name is Zhenka Schwartz. Five months ago he turned four years old. He lived with his mother and father in a working-class district of the city of Tula, in small house on Shtykova street, 51, in the courtyard. Zhenya huddled in his tiny walk-through room and slept on his new small single bed, which he had dreamed of for so long, because for several years before that he had slept on a homemade creaky wooden cot with the menacing name “goats”.
***
It was an ordinary early summer morning, and on the calendar it was the seventh of June 1964, Sunday. Through a sweet dream, Zhenya heard a not loud and not hasty conversation between Baba Mani and his mother.
“You can’t take him with you, he’s already big,” said the grandmother.
“The last time I was simply dumbfounded when I saw his eyes. The way he looked at me, I was even ashamed. He opened his little eyes, grabbed my crotch with them and looked and looked.
“Why are you mom, he’s still just a child, and how can he understand anything, it’s even funny,” answered Zhenya’s mother.
“But all the same, you don’t need to take him with you to the women’s bathhouse anymore,” Baba Manya insisted.
“Does he have a father?” she reasoned out loud.
“Yes,” the grandmother answered herself.
- Let Semyon take him with him men's sauna and takes it.
Zhenya had already completely forgotten how he went to the bathhouse with his mother and grandmother last time, but this involuntarily overheard conversation suddenly made his tenacious childhood memory return to one spring Sunday morning.
Zhenya stretched sweetly, turned over on his stomach and, half asleep, vivid memories swam before his eyes. In fact, it was so pleasant, pleasant, that I didn’t want to wake up. Zhenya remembered how he and his mother and grandmother washed themselves in the city bathhouse. How, having quickly undressed him first, his mother and grandmother were still undressing, sitting on the bench of the dressing room, and he ran to the door leading to the bathhouse itself, in order for the last time before it to draw as much cool air into his lungs as possible and burst into the unbearable heat.
Mom and grandmother, taking Zhenya by the hands, the three of them entered the hot and humid room. Thick clouds of steam walked like clouds driven by a strong wind. Cold drops of water falling from the ceiling onto the head and shoulders bit hard, like angry mosquitoes, filling the room of the common women's bathhouse with some kind of fabulously strange, rather mysterious atmosphere. Almost nothing was visible, only barely noticeable in the white steam, naked bodies of people flashed. Mom and grandmother led Zhenya by the hand to the bath bed and, sitting him down, took the iron bowls and, filling them with hot water, were the first to begin lathering themselves with thick, whipped white foam, like vanilla marshmallows. For some reason they had especially much of it in their armpits and lower abdomen. It hung in large pieces, like cotton wool, and reminded Zhenya of the beard of “Father Frost”, who came to congratulate him at home in New Year. From time to time, curly black hairs appeared through this cotton wool. Even then, Zhenya thought: “That’s great! You probably don’t need to wear panties, it’s so warm, and the wind won’t blow into your armpits when you’re racing around the yard on a bicycle!”
He even laughed and began to fidget on the couch.
“Sit still,” mother said, and her soapy hand besieged Zhenya.
Naked aunties and adult girls walked past them with gangs filled with hot water, and Zhenya saw their tits bouncing, swaying from side to side as they walked, splashing with droplets of water flying from their steamed tips. Zhenya sat on a stone trestle bed and rubbed his arms, legs and chest with a prickly washcloth and soap. He deliberately lathered a lot of foam on himself in order to somehow hide from two dozen curious eyes of the opposite sex, which, as it seemed to him, were doing nothing but just looking at him. Grandma stood in front of him and, squeezing some egg shampoo into her palm, cheerfully commanded:
“Quickly close your eyes, otherwise it will sting!” and, like a cat, she grabbed his head with both hands, rubbing the shampoo with hard fingers.
- Don’t you open your eyes? - asked the grandmother.
“No,” Zhenya answered.
“Now I’ll pour some warm water on you from the gang,” she explained. And the warm, pleasant water rolled heavily but quickly onto Zhenya’s head. Zhenya opened his eyes slightly, and wow... right in front of his nose, shimmering, a hairy, curly, black, slightly triangular ball was trembling and moving slightly, from which a barely noticeable dark path of tiny hairs stretched up his plump tummy to his navel. It was a real grandma's squeak. So shaggy that Zhenya could barely see the darkening vertical fold running from the lower abdomen to the crotch. The hairs in it were especially thick, they were curled into small braids along which soap streams flowed like grooves, and droplets of water hung at the very ends. And this “grandmother’s miracle” ended with a fur comb, similar to grandma’s big comb, sticking out between her legs. He wrapped his light eyelashes into the left and right groin of his slightly tanned, smooth thighs. And the lateral black hairs of this “miracle” slightly reached the rounded bones of my grandmother’s forty-three-year-old, elastic, wide pelvis. Zhenya was numb. He had never seen anything like this before. He himself did not understand what attracted him so much.
“Well, hairs and hairs, what’s wrong with that,” thought Zhenya. But there was something in these hairs, braids, folds, comb and eyelashes that made Zhenya want to look and look at them, he wanted to stroke his grandmother’s pussy like a black fluffy kitten, and maybe even cuddle up to her and kiss her. But not like a pussy, but like a part of the body of his beloved grandmother or like a kitten, however, Zhenya did not dare to do this. He suddenly felt scared and his chest was bubbling.
His stupor was interrupted by a new flurry of warm water from the gang and Zhenya breathed out a sigh of relief:
- Ugh…
- Isn't it hot? - asked the grandmother.
“No...” he said, stuttering slightly.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Zhenya answered.
“Stop looking at one point, “shy,” said Grandma Manya and turned Zhenya’s head away from her with her hand.
“Well, then, granddaughter, lie down on your tummy, on the trestle bed, now I’ll wash your back,” the grandmother informed. Zhenya lay down obediently on his stomach. His face was in front of his mother's back. Mom sat in front of him, rubbing her feet with a washcloth and talking to some girl. While soaping her heels and soles, she periodically leaned forward, and Zhenya’s gaze revealed a new miracle, a new mystery of the female naked body. At that moment, Zhenya did not perceive the person sitting with his back to him as his mother. It actually seemed to him that it was not his mother, but someone else’s aunt, and she didn’t notice him, that Zhenya was absolutely invisible.
- Zhenya thought to himself, “I should tell Shurka and Sanka about this, they’ll be jealous!”
Grandma, meanwhile, began to soap his back, butt, and legs. Moving closer to the head, Baba Manya carefully rubbed Zhenya’s neck and shoulders with a slippery, prickly washcloth. Near Zhenya’s right cheek, lightly touching it, two grandmother’s breasts swayed meatily. They were large and heavy, with a beautiful shape, as Zhenya thought. At their tips there were dark red circles, slightly smaller than the lid of a jar of shoe polish, with multiple small pimples, and in the middle of these circles stood two cherry-colored nipples, the size of a mother’s thimble. These tit nipples tickled his cheek every now and then, and one clung to the right nostril of Zhenya’s nose, while the tits swayed, hitting each other, slightly making a smacking wet sound. Droplets of water and fragrant grandmother’s sweat collected on the nipples, swollen from the hot bath, and fell onto Zhenya’s lips. As he licked them, he tasted the taste of baked milk and honey. Zhenya closed his eyes, opening his mouth slightly, and the left nipple slipped across his lips and tongue, leaving a feeling of elasticity and sweetness. Turning his head and resting his chin on the stone trestle bed, Zhenya began to look at his mother’s butt. Only now he saw that it was smooth and round, divided into two identical halves. On each of them she spontaneously moved left to right, back and forth, expelling small soap bubbles from under her.
“Wow,” Zhenya whispered and smiled. Mom leaned forward once again, and a “mysterious creature” appeared before his children’s eyes. This “creature” looked like a large river shell with two doors, the kind Zhenya found in the flood lakes of the Oka River last summer, when he and his parents went to pick mushrooms near the city of Aleksin.
“Exactly, it was a shell,” he decided, only it was all overgrown with curled hair, and a small finger stuck out between two large swollen flaps.
“Yeah, that means my mother’s pussy is growing, just like mine, but it’s still very small,” thought Zhenya.
“Turn over on your back,” said the grandmother, and Zhenya turned over. His pussy began to brazenly stick out upward, like a young acorn, resting on two unripe peas, and looked like a funny addition next to feminine forms mothers and grandmothers. Baba Manya turned her back to Zhenka and, leaning forward, began to wash his feet with a washcloth. Zhenya fixed his eyes on his grandmother’s butt. She was more like my mother's. Her well-fed buns, like little humps, rose slightly to her waist, and her entire butt resembled two down pillows. Two flat furry wings stuck out from the lower part of its halves, firmly stuck to the damp thighs, between which, shamelessly, a crescent rolled out two hairy bagels of a buttery color. And everything that had previously been covered in front by a fur comb was now revealed to Zhenya in close-up and turned at different angles. The hairy, ruddy donuts ended right next to the very hole of the butt, which was lightly covered with dark plush fluff around it. Zhenya turned his gaze to his grandmother’s boobs. Snuggling into the circle of Zhenya’s legs, together with the washcloth they dragged them back and forth, rubbing them until they shine, pressing pleasantly, knocking Zhenya’s knees with their thimble nipples. Then they dragged two heavy weights over Zhenya’s protruding acorn. Zhenya shouted:
“It’s ticklish!” and he laughed.
“Well, then everything else is mine,” said Grandma Manya and walked towards the shower stalls.
The hot steam sank so low that the bodies of people were visible only up to the waist. And Zhenya looked after his departing grandmother, admiring how she walked, wagging her round, steamy butt.
“Mom, let me wash your back!” Zhenya said cheerfully.
“Wash it,” my mother answered and lay down on her stomach. Zhenya took a washcloth. He began to slowly move along the back, simultaneously touching his mother’s hot figure with all his fingers. The hand walked along the sides of the body, bending around the protruding balls of the half-covered hard tits, jumped over the halves of the rounded butt, slightly touching the pliable lamb hairs sticking out guiltily from the inside of the meat buns pushed together. Zhenya really liked it. He washed the washcloth again in the gang and ran it over his butt again, thereby washing away all the foam from the beautiful hairs and saw how they twisted into crazy hair spirals, experiencing something shy and proud.
“Thank you,” said mom, sitting down in her original place. Zhenya looked at the showers. From the thick swirling steam, his legs came toward him, then the lower half of his grandmother. She carried her body lightly, the black cocked hat of the squeak, with the edges of a double-sided comb, grabbed one and then the other thigh. Still flowing streams of water furrowed her resinous hairy pussy; when she walked, she moved as if alive, quickly approaching Zhenya’s face, becoming larger, larger and larger. She touched her nose and gently hit her forehead, lips, cheeks!
“Oh!” the grandmother screamed.
“You can’t see anything in such a fog!” she continued.
- Zhenya, did I hurt you?
“No, grandma,” he said affectionately.
- And I was singing and dancing in my soul. He kissed “grandmother’s miracle.”
“Hurray!” Zhenya shouted silently.
*
“Zhenya, Zhenya, son... get up,” my mother sang quietly in her ear.
- It's morning already. Get ready to go to the bathhouse with dad, otherwise you’ve become dirty like piglets,” she added.
- Will you and grandma wash with us? - asked Zhenya.
- No, son, grandma and I will wash separately. And after kissing him on the forehead, mother and grandmother walked out the door.
“That’s great,” Zhenya shouted and got out of bed.
City bathhouse No. 1 was not far from their house, so Zhenya and his father went on foot. They walked along Arsenalnaya, then Komsomolskaya streets, past “Bread Factory No. 3” and came to the intersection of Maxim Gorky and Oktyabrskaya streets. A large steamship, emitting white steam, stood on a hillock, between dilapidated houses, a city bathhouse.
“Finally, I’ll wash with the men,” thought Zhenya, holding his father’s hand and skipping along beside him, trying to keep up.
They went straight to the second floor of the bathhouse. My father was met by an uncle in a white robe. Dad told him:
- Hello Uncle Vanya!
“Hello,” Uncle Vanya answered dryly. His father gave him 20 kopecks for two, it was half the price of the tickets, and Uncle Vanya escorted them to the shower.
“Hurray,” Zhenya shouted, running into a separate shower room. It was clean and cozy there, just him and dad.
Zhenya was washing himself in the shower, and out of the corner of his eye he examined his father’s pussy. It was long and thick, like a large sausage, open and you could see a round head with a hole in the center. Dense black jungle grew around the “sausage”, and on the sides of it dangled, namely two huge testicles, with sparse hair similar to springs. Zhenya examined his pussy and thought:
“I wish it would grow up to be as big as my dad’s.” Then I would definitely show it to my mother and grandmother, they would definitely like it.
“Eh-heh-heh,” Zhenya said as he exhaled.
When their mother arrived home, she met them and, smiling, asked Zhenya:
- Have my pink piglets washed themselves?
“Yes!” answered Zhenya.
“Well, then let’s have tea with gingerbread,” she said and went to put the samovar in the kitchen. Zhenya ran after her and, lowering his head, quietly asked: “Mom, why don’t you have a pussy like dad and I?” Mom looked at him, laughed for a long time, and then answered:
- A long, long time ago, when I was a little girl, I also had a pussy. But one summer, it was very hot, I didn’t listen to my mom and didn’t put on panties. So, she was running past big dog, bit off my pussy!
“Really?” Zhenya asked in surprise and fear.
- And grandma too?
“And at grandma’s,” my mother repeated, laughing.
“Mom, I will never walk without panties,” Zhenya assured.
“That’s good,” said mom.
And the four of them drank hot, aromatic tea with gingerbread, and Zhenya was very happy that he had such good ones: mom, dad and grandmother.

Where is our world heading? In general, some kind of tinny!!!
Pearl Carter, a resident of Indiana, shocked the public with her plans to have a child with her own grandson. Reports
Carter, 72, claims she had never been happier until she started an affair with her 26-year-old grandson Phil Bailey. An Indiana retiree is saving her pension to pay for a surrogate mother to give birth to the couple's child.

“I don’t care what other people think,” says Crater, “Phil and I love each other!” Soon I will be holding our son or daughter in my arms and Phil will be a proud father!
Her lover is the son of Pearl's daughter, Lynette Bailey, whom Carter gave up for adoption when she was 18 years old. When his mother died, Phil Bailey tracked down his grandmother and they fell in love almost instantly.

When I saw him for the first time, I immediately realized that we would never have a relationship like a grandmother and grandson. For the first time in many years, sensuality awakened in me!
During their second week of living together, after dinner and a few glasses of wine, Pearl made the first move.
“I called Phil into my bedroom, sat him down on the bed and kissed him,” says Pearl. “I expected him to pull away, but he responded to my kiss.
“I really wanted to kiss her, my feelings were stronger than me,” Phil admits. - I love Pearl with all my heart! I've always been attracted to older women and I think she's gorgeous. Now I can't wait to become a father!

The couple spent $54,000 to pay for a surrogate mother and a donor egg.
Phil says he's always been drawn to older women and finds his grandmother "lovely."
Pearl says: "I never thought that at 72 years old I would fall in love with my own grandson and would be expecting a child with him. I think that God gave me a second chance."

“At first I was shocked,” he says. surrogate mother unborn child, 30-year-old Roxanne Campbell - but they are a great couple, I can see how much they love each other. It is safe to say that the child will also be surrounded by love.

“I don’t regret anything, I don’t apologize for anything, and I regard what happened as a second chance given to me by God,” Carter says.

Where is our world heading? In general, some kind of tinny!!! Pearl Carter, a resident of Indiana, shocked the public with her plans to have a child with her own grandson. Reports 72-year-old Carter claims that she has never been happier until...