When she finished talking she looked at me and asked. “What’s wrong, why did you ask me that?”
“Nothing’s wrong I just wanted to talk about you and Dad that’s all,” I turned and walked away. Nothing’s wrong, yep, I’ll believe it if you will.
A couple of months later Colin came to me in the garage and said, “what’s wrong Tim, your mum’s worried sick about you, she says there’s a problem, and you won’t talk to her about it, you just won’t let her in. She’s had a bit on her plate with first your dad and then his mother dying, and this is more than she can take, she’s at her wits end. You’ll just have to tell her what’s wrong or she’ll most likely join them.”
This shocked me, I’ve been selfish only thinking about how it’d effected me and not how my behaviour was affecting her, so that night I talked to her and said, “sorry mum I’ve had a bit to deal with at work, and that girl Heather that I really liked, went off with another guy.”
I really tried but nothing changed, I was still having dreams about Dad and I fighting over who would make love with Grandma. Sometimes in my dreams again, all three of us were making love together.
One day I went to the photo album and got one out of Grandma taken in the garden many years ago, she was kneeling looking up at the camera, with two garden tools in one hand and her wide brimmed hat in the other.
She had such a lovely smile on her face, and whoever had posed her had got her blouse just a little opened with the slightest hint of her bra showing, it was perfect. I took it and put it into the drawer by my bed.
My grandmother had died at the age of eighty, but the full of life woman in the photograph would have been no more that a half of that age, and that was who I was making love with every night.
Before getting into bed I would kiss the photo and tell her, “see you in a little while.”
Sure enough as soon as I fell asleep, I was dreaming of her, and as time went on my father appeared less and less, so that it seemed that I’d at last beaten him out, and she was now mine. When this happened the love making became more intense, to the point that I now knew every inch of her body, because I’d kissed it so many times.
Her right nipple which was long, thick and black, was very sensitive, I’d lie across her body and spend ages just sucking it until she called out with pleasure, whilst pushing my face hard into her breast at her moment of release.
At other times I’d hold her legs wide apart and spend the time kissing her on one or the other of her thighs, at the very top, right alongside her entrance. Sometimes I’d suck her skin until it bruised, and the next night the mark would still be there, so I’d put another one alongside it.
Soon she had a collection of love bites which were in various stages of development or fading away. Love bites are the way that lovers mark their territories, what I was saying to my father was, “this is now mine, keep out.”
Many times after laying down claim notices a half the way down to her knees, I only had to move my head a few degrees to start mining my claim, looking for the rich veins of pleasure that I knew were hidden in there, cocooned deep within her velvet oyster, far from prying eyes.