Summer in the Village. Part 2
All characters in the story are adults.
"Well, you're a fine grandson, I was about to hire workers to chop my firewood, pay them for it, and you alone chopped about half the wood in an hour." — the voice of Grandma Zoya sounded behind my back. The elderly woman stood behind me holding a bag of groceries in her hand and looked at the pile of birch logs I had stacked near the shed after chopping half the blocks.
Engrossed in my work, I hadn't heard her come home or enter the gate, and I was caught off guard. When I turned around at her exclamation from behind, I forgot that I had a hard-on, and Grandma saw
my erection in my tracksuit in all its glory."It's no problem for me, Grandma Zoya. Bring more wood, I'll chop it all for you and stack it in the shed." — I replied to Grandma, looking her straight in the eye, trying to glimpse again the black panties and bra under the dress of the elderly relative, not at all embarrassed that she had seen my erection in my tracksuit.
On the contrary, I wanted her to look at my dick, jutting out like a stake in the thin cotton tracksuit, and to observe her reaction.
"Well, why would I buy wood now and hire a truck to bring it? Firewood is terribly expensive now; I gave half my pension for a truckload of birch wood. Now you'll prepare firewood for the winter for me for free, Kostya, and I'll help you with it. I'm going to make lunch, you work a bit more and come into the house. You can wash off the sweat in the garden shower, just don't use all the water, leave some for me; I'll go rinse off too, as I got all sweaty standing in line at the mobile shop in the heat." — Grandma warned me, standing in front of me pretending to look me in the eyes, but herself casting frank glances at the huge bulge in my tracksuit.
Grandma was curious to see what was sticking out in her adult grandson's pants below the belt, and this indirectly indicated that the elderly woman had not yet lost interest in sex and perhaps liked young guys.
I remembered the late Grandma Liza, my father's mother, how many times I had appeared before her with a similar erection in my tracksuit or underwear, usually in the morning, sleepy on the way to the bathroom, and she never showed any interest. Grandma Liza was asexual and had long ago lost all interest in men. She was a plump, good-natured woman, more interested in pets and taking care of the house and garden.
But my mother Lena's mother, the mean and nasty Grandma Zoya, was the complete opposite of kind Grandma Liza in this regard. My maternal grandmother not only evoked wild sexual attraction in me with her appearance and looks, but she herself seemed not averse to indulging in debauchery with her young grandson. At least, her gaze directed down at my tracksuit testified to that. Grandma was casting greedy, frank glances at my dick in my pants, and this circumstance spoke volumes.
Of course, such glances were not grounds for immediately seducing the elderly relative, but they instilled in me some hope that under certain circumstances, anything could happen.
Following Grandma's order, I chopped wood for another half hour, and then, sweltering from the heat and wanting to wash off the sweat with warm water, I went deeper into the garden. The summer shower stall, like all the buildings in the yard, was made skillfully by the hands of the carpenter, Grandma Zoya's late husband, and washing in it was a pure pleasure.
A similar summer shower was in Grandma Liza's village where I always spent my summer holidays, but that shower, knocked together from rough boards and lined with oilcloth, couldn't compare at all to the shower in my maternal grandmother's garden. Grandfather Yegor, that was the name of Grandma Zoya's late husband, made the shower stall from polished oak boards, and it was so spacious that two people could easily wash in it.
When I went inside, I saw a woman's robe on a hook; it was Grandma Zoya's clothing. Stripping naked, I ran my dick over this robe, imagining its elderly owner in it, the mean but beautiful grandma whose pussy was apparently just as black and overgrown up to her navel as my mother's.
"Did you rinse off, grandson? Did you leave water for me? I want to shower too; in this heat, I go several times, but it's hard for me to fill the tank, I get dizzy on the ladder. But now I have you, Kostya, so the shower is on you. In the morning when you wake up, fill it with water so we have enough for both of us for the day." — Grandma met me standing at the gas stove, stirring cutlets in a frying pan, with a long apron worn over her dress.
The aroma of fried cutlets wafted through the kitchen, and a large white enameled pot, probably with borscht or soup, stood on the table.
"There's enough water there for ten people to wash, Grandma Zoya. I poured about a hundred liters into the tank. The water is warm like fresh milk, you can go wash, it'll be enough for you." — I replied to my relative, swallowing saliva at the sight of the frying pan with fried cutlets and simultaneously amazed at the change in Grandma Zoya's behavior.
The stingy and greedy grandma suddenly became generous and decided to treat me to a meat roast.
"Did you fill the whole tank, Kostya? I always poured a couple of buckets into it, couldn't manage more. Well done, now this water will definitely last us two days. But you go to your room, lunch isn't ready yet, you can lie down and rest on the bed, I'll call you." — Grandma, without stopping to stir the cutlets in the pan while talking to me, didn't miss the bulge in my tracksuit with her keen eyes and again cast a greedy, lustful glance at the lower part of my abdomen.
In the shower, I smelled her robe, which was scented with floral perfume, and my dick was still standing hard. And this circumstance did not escape the attentive eyes of the elderly relative who, to my insane joy, had not lost interest in sex.
"I'm not particularly hungry, Grandma Zoya, I'll go listen to the tape recorder while you cook." — I deliberately lied to Grandma, standing in front of her with an excellent erection in my tracksuit, not at all embarrassed by her.
I saw with what a greedy look she examined the lower part of my abdomen and as if I was giving her such an opportunity. And we were alone in the house, and there was no one for us to be shy about. Although if my mother Lena were in her place, for example, I probably would have been embarrassed to come out to her with a protruding dick in my tracksuit, but with Grandma I wasn't afraid to walk around like that because from her eyes and behavior I saw that she liked it.
"There, there, go listen to your tape recorder, grandson, don't disturb my cooking. I'll call you when I put everything on the table." — Grandma turned away to the stove, at the same time giving me a special kind of look, and I went to the other half of the house where my room was.
"Fuck, she's really into my dick. Look how she devoured it with her eyes. No, definitely, this bitch wants sex, otherwise she wouldn't look like that."
I thought, lying down on the bed behind the partition. I heard Grandma clattering pots in the kitchen, then went out into the yard, probably to wash in the shower, and then came into the hall and rustled clothes in her room, most likely changing.
"Let's go have lunch, Kostya. Everything's ready, I went to the shower and washed up, and I want to eat myself. I haven't eaten since morning, just a little porridge, and it's already noon." — the door to my room opened, and Grandma Zoya was looking at me. She had come to call me to the table, and at that time I was lying on the bed listening to music on the tape recorder through headphones.
"Coming, I'm on my way, Grandma Zoya." — I replied to my relative, getting up from the bed and looking at her with stunned eyes.
Grandma had not only washed in the garden shower but also changed clothes, and now she stood before me in a white knee-length denim skirt from under which slender, tanned legs were visible, and in a black sleeveless blouse with a deep neckline. And also, the elderly relative had her lips painted with bright lipstick and, as it seemed to me, even her eyelashes and eyes were slightly lined with mascara. Grandma's fingernails were also painted with red polish, which was atypical for an elderly village woman. In our city, women her age rarely wore makeup, maybe sometimes lipstick, but to line their eyes with mascara and paint their fingernails—I hadn't seen that.
"Your mother brought her old clothes last year, said they'd come in handy in the village for housework. I never wore them, had no one to wear them for, and you can't go outside in such clothes, the women would laugh at me." — Grandma Zoya said in a pleased voice, seeing that she had made a strong impression on her young grandson with her outfit.
Grandma, standing in the doorway, ran her eyes over me, lingering a bit on the tracksuit where there was no bulge at that moment; my dick had gone down and was in a calm state. I was listening to music and had somewhat distracted myself from thoughts about my sexy relative, whom I seemed to have fallen for completely.
"You look very beautiful in these clothes, Zoya Vitalyevna, you wouldn't think you're fifty-seven now." — I said to Grandma, getting up from the bed and not flattering her at all, and I also remembered that I had seen a similar sleeveless blouse and skirt on my mother Lena several times.
"Thank you, Kostya, and I don't want to grow old. I like to dress up and wear makeup. But I live alone all the time, have no one to show off for, and with your arrival, I decided to put on your mother's fashionable clothes, otherwise I walk around like a frump in old rags, it's awkward somehow. Well, okay, I'll go close the door on the terrace, or else someone will come barging in and won't let us have lunch in peace." — Zoya Vitalyevna, once again casting a satisfied glance at me, seeing what impression her outfit had made on her grandson, turned her back to me and, clicking her heels on the wooden floor, went to the terrace to latch the door, and at the sight of her plump ass sticking out with two large "buns" under the tight skirt, my dick instantly stood up.
Grandma had not only put on her daughter's clothes, but the elderly relative also sported polished black high-heeled shoes on her feet. And if the clothing could somehow be explained, the high-heeled shoes did not fit the lifestyle of a village grandma at all.
"She put all this on for me, and the shoes are definitely my mother's, I've seen them on her; mother bought herself new, more fashionable ones, and took these to Grandma in the village."
I thought, quickly pulling off my tracksuit and putting on jeans 👖 and a nicer clean shirt. I didn't want to be in front of the dressed-up grandma in my tracksuit, so I put on new trousers and a nice white shirt. And standing in front of the mirror built into the wardrobe, combing my hair with a comb, I caught myself thinking that perhaps for the first time in my life I was preening in front of a woman, and by a twist of fate, this woman was my own maternal grandmother.
Before Grandma Zoya, I had no relationships with girls; I didn't like young ones, and older women didn't let me near them. I was still a virgin, and my only friend was Dunya Kulakova.
"Sit down at the table, grandson, you must be hungry? I want to eat too, you can't fill up on porridge." — Grandma Zoya seated me at the table when I entered the kitchen, on which, right in the center, stood that same white enameled pot, but instead of borscht or cabbage soup as I had assumed, it was filled with okroshka, fragrantly smelling, thickly seasoned with sour cream and dill.
My mother's mother carefully ladled okroshka into my bowl, filling it to the brim. And only after that did she fill her own bowl with the fragrant kvass, but less than mine.
"Wait, don't eat yet, Kostya. For appetite, I'll pour you a shot and drink with you for company; after all, we haven't seen each other for almost a year, and it wouldn't hurt to drink for luck." — to my surprise, the stingy and greedy grandma reached for the refrigerator standing nearby in the kitchen near the table and took out a bottle of store-bought vodka, not moonshine which is usually drunk in villages to save money, but real vodka and even expensive vodka "White Eagle".
"I was saving it for a special occasion, and today it has arrived. We need to celebrate your arrival, grandson, and it's not a sin to drink for luck in the upcoming task." — Grandma Zoya deftly unscrewed the screw cap from the bottle neck and poured the alcohol into the shot glasses that were already on the table, a full one for me and half for herself.
"Do you already drink, grandson? At your age, it's okay, not too much, but a hundred grams at lunch won't hurt." — seeing that I had frozen, holding the filled shot glass of vodka in my hand and not daring to drink it, Grandma herself set an example for me, downing the contents of her shot glass in a manly way into her lipstick-painted mouth, and after drinking, chased it with a piece of black 🍞 bread.
To tell the truth, I hadn't drunk vodka yet, only 🍺 beer and wine 🍷 with friends, and so I was a little afraid, but seeing how easily my own grandma drank strong alcohol, I immediately followed her example, drinking the contents of the shot glass in one gulp and immediately choked and coughed.
"What a drinker you are! You don't know how to drink yet, Kostya. But it's okay, you'll live with me and learn." — Grandma got up from the chair and gave me water to chase the vodka, pouring it into a mug from the tap.
And I immediately felt better, and the vodka that went inside ignited my stomach with a pleasant warmth and spread through my body. A ravenous appetite immediately appeared, and I pounced on the food, scooping the fragrant okroshka with a spoon and putting it in my mouth. At home, mother sometimes also made okroshka in the summer heat, but made it with water and citric acid, but here at Grandma's in the village, the okroshka was made from real white bread kvass, and instead of sausage, pieces of meat, cucumbers, radishes, green onions, dill floated in it, and all this cold dish was generously seasoned with thick sour cream.
"And what task were you talking about, Zoya Vitalyevna?" — I asked Grandma after finishing the okroshka, and she served buckwheat porridge with cutlets on the table.
Grandma again gave me a full plate of porridge and a pile of cutlets, and for herself less than half and one cutlet. After the vodka, my 👅 tongue loosened, and I gained confidence in talking with the relative whom I had feared like fire in childhood and disliked for her greed.
"I told you earlier that with your appearance in my house, I won't buy firewood anymore. We have a forest nearby; I couldn't manage to prepare firewood for the winter alone, so I bought it, spent a lot of money. But with you, grandson, together, we'll easily prepare firewood. But it's forbidden to cut trees in the forest; they can give a big fine for that, or even start a criminal case. So we need luck so as not to get caught by the foresters in the forest." — Grandma explained to me, looking at me attentively as if trying to read from my eyes whether I was afraid or not to go steal trees in the forest with her.
And at that time, I was looking at the neckline of her blouse where the beginning of her breasts was visible, as well as at the blouse itself through which the outlines of her nipples showed. Grandma hadn't put a bra on her tits and now sat before me in a blouse worn on her bare body.
"I'm in, Grandma Zoya, you can count on me, Zoya Vitalyevna. And in general, I'm a vault; no one will get a word out of me." — I replied to Grandma and involuntarily lowered my eyes under the table, and there a surprise awaited me.
Grand