Grandma's Little Snickerdoodle

I go to Grandma's house when I'm down, and she makes me feel all better!

Ever since I was a little boy, Grandma had taken really good care of me. When we had dinner at her house, she always made sure I had enough to eat, usually trying to get me to eat more than I wanted. If she knew I was coming over that day, she would make a point to put candy out in all of the various candy dishes she kept scattered around her house, like secret, sugary grandma-traps. As a little boy I absolutely adored Grandma’s house, because she always spoiled me and covered me in kisses and snuggles. Her “little Snickerdoodle” was what she called me in private, because it my favorite cookie, but my real name is Ryan.

As the years went on, and I blossomed into my awkward teenage self, Grandma and I had grown close. My grandfather had died when I was still just a little boy, and while I remembered him enough to recognize him in pictures I never really knew him that well. Nevertheless, Grandma always told me that I took after him, sharing not just a lot of the same physical attributes as him but a lot of the same mannerisms and sense of humor as well. She even told me that talking with me sometimes reminded her of when she was a young girl, joking around with my Grandpa, and it made her feel young again.

She had showed me many old pictures of him and I couldn’t argue with her. He had the same light brown hair as me and even combed it in the same, side-parted pompadour fashion. My eyes definitely came from my grandfather, with their distinct downward angle and faded grey coloring, giving off an impression of sleepiness. Like my grandfather, I was prone to freckles, and we both had our share of them dotting our face.

I loved my Grandma. I know that wasn’t ‘cool,’ and I certainly kept my opinions to myself around friends, but my parents…well, my parents weren’t happy. My Grandma was always there for me, while my parents typically, were not.

It was hard for me to live with, but both my Mom and Dad were clearly miserable in their marriage, and I’m pretty sure they only stayed together because of me. Now that I had reached eighteen and was considered legal age, I was very concerned that they would be getting a divorce soon. I just hoped they let me graduate high school first, or even better, wait until I was in college.

Because of this rocky home life, I usually found being there unbearable. Even if my parents weren’t screaming at each other there always seemed to be tension in the air now, and it could become stifling after awhile.

I had dealt with the pressure for the past several months by spending an inordinate amount of time with my girlfriend, Trish. She was a beautiful young blonde with eyes that were too far apart for her face, but she had a cheerful personality that I adored. She was very smart and had a wonderful upbringing, and she made me want to be a better person just for her. We had been together for over a year which was impressive for a high school romance, and we had been inseparable for so long that people started asking us when the wedding was. I had to be honest, the thought had definitely crossed my mind. After school, of course. I certainly didn’t have the money for an engagement ring yet. But I had been pretty certain that she was the one for me.

If I had any complaints with her, it was that she was such a proper little good girl that she could be a bit of buzz kill sometimes when I wanted to act young and stupid. Annoying, yes, but she kept me out of trouble. So even this would be forgivable, because we got along so well…if she also wasn’t so incredibly fucking chaste.

Trish wanted to save herself for marriage, and while I respected that, I didn’t share the conviction. Not that there was anything wrong with it, I had just never been a religious person or anything, and never felt any reason to wait. To be honest, Trish just had a much better moral compass than me. She wasn’t religious either, actually, she just wanted to enjoy her innocence for as long as possible. Unfortunately, that meant my hormone-crazy teenage self was the one that had to suffer.

I could have handled it better if she had at least given me a blowjob. I would’ve even settled for a handy, at this point. But, no. For Trish, saving her innocence meant refraining from everything. I was only allowed to kiss her and that was it.

Before I continue, remember that she and I had been together for a little over a year. A YEAR. That is a very long time for a teenager in high school, and it’s an even longer time for a teenage boy fresh out of puberty that was given absolutely no release except for the occasional kiss. I became very well-acquainted with my right hand.

As you might notice, I’m referring to my relationship with Trish in the past tense. And that is because it was over. After all the time we had been together, I was pretty sure it was for real this time.

It’s not like we hadn’t fought before. We had some pretty bad ones, and I would be lying if I didn’t say that our lack of a sex life wasn’t a sore spot for us. But this time it was different. We weren’t breaking up because I was sexually frustrated or because we had a fight over what to have for breakfast (we had done that) but because she had just gotten accepted into a college that was out of state, and we realized that all we had left was the summer together. We could stay together and try to make it work for a few more months, but we were already fighting badly and I swear she was talking to another kid in our school behind my back.

Things got a little out of control, as they often did. I don’t mean violent or anything, but we both said things that were probably going too far, and, well…long story short I’m now completely convinced she is talking to someone else, and we are broken up. With only a couple months left anyway it doesn’t seem worth it anymore.

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On this particular Saturday, better known as the worst day of my life, I walked with my head down towards my Grandma’s house. She lived close enough in our quiet suburban neighborhood that I could do this, although it was still a 4-block walk.

As I reached her house and made my way up the quaint stone path, garden gnomes grinned and waved at me from their permanent positions within the flower garden that graced the front of my grandmother’s house. Tulips bobbed their heads in the late spring sun, as fat bumblebees lazily sampled their nectar. There was an American flag hanging from a flagpole on the side of her one car garage, just in time for Memorial Day. My grandma was enthusiastic about holidays, even the lesser celebrated ones.

I pressed the doorbell next to the front door, and heard the familiar clanging sound that always made me think of an old fashioned organ. There was nothing for a moment, and then ever so softly I heard a bump of some kind from within, signaling movement. “Just a minute!” I heard my Grandma shout. “I don’t move very fast these days!”

I smiled, hearing the sound of my grandmother’s sweet voice. A second later the large inner door opened, and there was my Grandma, still standing behind the screen door. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

“Why, Ryan!” she exclaimed, the pure excitement in her voice almost palpable. “Come on in, darling. How’s my little Snickerdoodle?” She unlocked and opened the outer door, her bony hand struggling for a moment. My Grandma was old but not ancient, and still looked pretty good for a woman of 67.

Her hair had turned to a beautiful silver, and while it had thinned out a bit she still wore it up in a soft vintage bob, similar to Marilyn Monroe. Her face shone with ancient wisdom and her eyes were wide, the same shade of bluish gray as my own, and they always seemed to sparkle with youthful vigor and warmth. Her face was a mask of wrinkles that continued down her neck, brought about by a lifetime of experience and happy smiles. She was still very beautiful despite her advanced age, in a graceful, sophisticated way. She wore a dangly pair of cameo earrings, and there were multiple rings on her fingers. I always wondered why she wore them around the house, but always thought it too rude to ask.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. She wasn’t buying it, as usual. My grandmother was too smart for that.

“What’s wrong? You seem down for some reason.” She opened the door and stepped aside, and I entered her house.

Like it so often did, my grandmother’s house smelled like cinnamon. She made snicker doodles for me often since she learned they were my favorite cookie, and I have to admit she had perfected the recipe. Since I visited her fairly often, she seemed to make them a lot. It was like she was always just hoping that I would drop in, and being the perfect grandma she wanted to be ready.
She walked into her small kitchen, and I followed her. The room was warm and smelled like baking. I took a seat at the kitchen table, properly set with a placemat depicting an old horse and carriage graphic. This wasn’t set for a meal, my Grandma just never moved them, and they had become a regular fixture. The walls were adorned with small, framed pictures of birds, and the wallpaper was a tacky pattern of tiny pink roses, arraigned in vertical stripes. By and large it was room only a grandmother could love.

“I’m ok, Grandma. Trish and I broke up.” I said morosely. I said it like it was just a fact of life, trying to disguise the raw emotion within me that wanted to overflow. Grandma didn’t need to be bothered with my silly teenage relationships.

And yet, when she heard the news, Grandma suddenly whirled around and looked at me. She was standing next to the oven with an oven mitt on, about to open it and check on her latest batch.

“You DID?” she says, seemingly shocked. “You and that girl have been going together for a long time now. How long has it been? I can’t believe she would let you get away, what is wrong with her? Why, she needs to have her head examined if she thinks she can do better than you, Snicky. The nerve of her!” Snicky was a nickname she only called me when she was feeling particularly affectionate or concerned.

I tried a smile. “It’s ok, Grandma, really. Things just got bad after awhile. Like you said we were together a long time and I guess we grew apart.” I didn’t really want to tell my grandmother about our sexual frustrations.

She reached in and pulled the cookies out of the oven, then shuts off the timer. Setting them on top of the stove, she stripped off her oven mitts and approached the table. She moved slowly, her back just starting to hunch these days. “Augh, getting old is no fun,” she grumbled as she walked, and placed a hand on her back. “Don’t get old if you can help it.” This was an old joke of my Grandma’s. She told it every time she felt an ache in her body.

When she finally settled into the chair next to me, she took my hand and squeezed it, and I marvel once again at how incredibly soft my grandmother’s skin is. “Now…tell me what happened, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, her voice brimming with concern. “Why did this girl throw away the best relationship she’s ever going to find?”

I smile, but it’s only partially genuine. Grandma wants to make me feel better, and unfortunately I don’t think she can. No amount of snicker doodles will cure the pain in my heart.

“She’s going away to college. We…” I stopped, realizing a lump was forming in my throat. “…we could see each other over the summer but we were already fighting. And she’s talking to some other guy.”

Grandma’s eyes widened at this news. “Talking to some other guy?! Yeah…she’s ‘talking,’ I bet she is, the little harlot!” Her eyes flashed angrily for my sake.

“Grandma, it’s ok, really.” I tried to smile again and squeeze her hand, tried to show her that I’m strong and I’ll be ok. But once again, my Grandma is too smart for that.

“Of course you’re not, sweetie.” She said firmly, “This girl hurt you. What else were you fighting about?”

For a moment the question confused me, and then I remember that I told her we were already fighting before that. “Oh…just…stuff.” This is extremely lame and I knew she wasn’t going to buy it, but I don’t want to tell her about the sexual problems.

But of course, Grandma looked at me with her eyebrows raised, waiting for the truth. She doesn’t need to say anything, just the look she is giving me says it all. It says that she knows there is more to the story, and she isn’t going to let up until I tell her the rest of it.

I squirm in my seat and look down at my hands, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. “It’s nothing, just, like, school stuff and…y’know…there’s that other guy and….” I shrug my shoulders maybe fourteen times as I speak, trying to come up with a suitable excuse for a break-up that my grandmother would accept.

Her eyes bore into me, a mischievous glint in them, and a small smile begins to spread across her wrinkled lips. “Did she put out?” she asked, still smiling.

My eyes widen as I hear these words from my grandmother’s mouth. “Grandma!” I shout in real shock. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that!”

My Grandma laughs, then slaps a bony hand to her knee. She is wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe that reaches the floor and is belted tightly at the waist. She’s always had very large breasts, and while they are shriveled and wrinkled now they still push enticingly against the folds of her robe, offering a generous view of the cleavage between. I tried to keep my eyes on her face and not look, reminding myself that this is my grandmother and that to check her out would be extremely depraved.

“Well…did she?” she asked again. “You can tell me, Snicky. I know what a woman wants, after all. Maybe I can help you get her back. I’ve been around for a long time.”

“I don’t think I want to get her back, though,” I admitted. “She’s leaving soon anyway and I’m tired of fighting with her. And to answer your question…” I hesitated, and looked down at my hands again. “…to answer your question, ‘no,’ Trish never put out. She never did anything. At all. Ever.”

Grandma raised just one eyebrow this time and cocked her head at me. “Really? I find that hard to believe. You were together for a long time,” she repeats. I didn’t blame her for not believing me, I could hardly believe it myself.

“I’m serious. You’ve met her, you know what a ‘good girl’ she was. Trish was saving herself for marriage.”

Once again my grandmother looks shocked, and she places a hand on her chest dramatically. She makes a derisive “tsk!” sound and shakes her head. “Well! No wonder you were always fighting with her! I understand that she probably has her reasons for being a prude, but she has to understand that you are a young, virile man with needs! She can’t just give you nothing at all!” She shakes her head in an exasperated gesture.
The conversation was incredibly embarrassing to have with your grandmother, and I just wanted it to end. “It’s ok, really. Now we’re broken up and I can find a new girlfriend when I get to college. I’ll be fine.” I looked at the cookies on the stove, seeking a diversion. “Are those snicker doodles?”

Grandma nodded, “You know they are, you can smell the cinnamon.” She still seemed agitated by his break up however, and would not be deterred. “So…she never even put her mouth on you? Made your milk come out?”

“Grandma!” I exclaimed once more. “Can we not talk about this? It’s weird!”

“Why?” she asked. “I know more about giving blowjobs then a teenage girl. I used to give them to your grandfa….”

I cut her off. “Stop! Oh god, Grandma. I don’t want to think about that. Seriously.”

She scoffs. “Whatever, Snicky. If I didn’t do that stuff with your Grandpa than you wouldn’t be here. I got really good at it over the years.”

I shake my head. “I’m sure you did, Grandma. Can we change the subject, now?”

Grandma looks at me levelly, saying nothing. There is a small smirk at the corner of her mouth. She looks down at my lap, then back up into my eyes. “You’re sort of a prude, too, aren’t you?” she asks teasingly.

“No I’m not. It’s just weird talking about blowjobs with your grandmother.”

She chuckles. “I understand.” She looks at me for a second again, and then suddenly says the words that prove to be more shocking than anything she has said so far. “Would you like one?”

_____________________________________________________________

My eyes widen at my grandmother’s offer, and at first I don’t answer her. I’m quite honestly so shocked by what I’m pretty sure I just heard her ask that I figure I must’ve heard her wrong. I look up into her eyes, and when I see the mischievous smile on her puckered mouth, see not just the look of love twinkling in her eyes but the desire, I realize that I heard her right all along.

“…Grandma…what…?” I stumble, unsure of what to say to this impossible request.

“I mean a blowjob, sweetheart. If you’d like, you can lie back and let Grandma suck on your penis for you. I know how much boys your age need that, and after that last girlfriend you’re probably more than ready. Let Grandma take care of you. Afterwards, I’ll make you a grilled cheese, how’s that sound?” She smiles sweetly, speaking in her normal kindly, grandmotherly tone.

“But…Grandma….that’s not right…” I stammer, my voice a low whisper, lacking any real resolve. From the moment I learned that a blowjob was a possibility I knew I wanted it, even if it wasn’t from Trish. That was how desperate I had become.

She shakes her head dismissively and waves a hand in the air. “Bah!” she grunts, “there’s nothing wrong with a Grandma taking care of her grandson! I would do anything for my little Snickerdoodle!”

She suddenly slides off her kitchen chair and down to the linoleum floor, resting on her knees in front of me. “It’s a good thing this robe is so fluffy!” she chuckled, “My bony old knees can’t take this like they used to,” and then suddenly she reached up for my pants.

I could’ve stopped her. I’m sure that I could have. She was just an old lady and I was a young, healthy 18 year-old male. But I didn’t want to overpower my own Grandma. I loved her too much to argue with her.

And besides, she was right. I did want it. I wanted to feel what a blowjob felt like, even if it meant getting one from Grandma. There was nobody else around, and my friends and parents never needed to know.

I reached down and tried to help her unbutton my pants, her hands old and gnarled and full of arthritis. She tolerated my fidgeting for a second but then suddenly slapped my hand away, insisting on doing it herself. After another stressful moment of tugging, she finally managed to undo the top button with a jolt. With her other hand she grabbed the tab of my jeans zipper and pulled it down with a rip.

“Are you sure about this Grandma?” I asked softly. My voice sounded childish and meek in my own ears, like I had somehow reverted to the little boy that used to cuddle on her lap as she read me stories.

“Of course, my little Snicky,” she said, her voice singsong and babyish, like I was still a little boy. “You just lie back now, let Grandma show you how it’s done.” There was something special about a Grandma’s love, something that went deeper. It was unconditional and eternal, a love that was similar to a mother’s, but then they took it to another level, because your grandmother would go to any lengths to make you happy. She is more free to spoil you, knowing that your parents will handle the bulk of your education, and she just wants to be remembered as generous and caring. Sometimes this meant doing things that your parents didn’t approve of.

I watched with morbid fascination as my Grandma pulled down the front of my boxer shorts and exposed my teenage cock. I was already semi-hard, possibly because the situation I found myself in was so incredibly depraved. The sight of this kindly old woman, the woman that took care of me when I had the chickenpox and had baked me countless cookies, smiling lovingly at my manhood, was more of a turn-on than I could have ever imagined.

I didn’t resist her when she gently took my penis in her hand and began massaging it. Her skin was unbelievably soft, and she moved it slowly up and down in almost feather light strokes. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at my length, and there was the faintest trace of a smile on her mouth.

“You’ve grown so big and strong,” she coos. “You’re so much bigger than that little boy that used to run around the house naked after a bath.” She smiled tenderly. When she does, the wrinkles around her eyes become more pronounced, but her face lights up in a way that somehow seems to take ten years away regardless.

I looked down at my grandmother, unable to believe what was happening. She stared hungrily at my cock, her eyes full of lust, and slowly sucked on her lips. When she did I saw the tiny white hairs that dotted her upper lip, and I marveled again at how twisted this was.

And then something happened that made it a hundred times worse. I had thought what was happening was depraved before. And then…my grandmother took her teeth out.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, not really. I knew that my grandmother wore dentures, and giving oral sex was probably not something she would able to perform while wearing them. But still, watching my Grandma pull both her sets of teeth out, the top and the bottom, and then setting them gently on the kitchen table where they smiled sinisterly at me, was almost surreal. They sat there glistening, still coated in her saliva, and I could see a piece of food that had gotten caught on the back edge of one. It looked like the remnants of a bologna sandwich.

“There we are, that’s better,” she said sweetly, and smiled up at me. With her teeth gone the smile was wide and gum-filled, and it made her look older.

“Wait, Grandma, this…” I started to protest one last time, perhaps trying to maintain one last shred of normalcy, but my grandmother interrupted.

“Now, now, shush little one,” she said sweetly but firmly. “Grandma is going to make you feel all better, and finally scratch that itch. Don’t you worry.” As she continued to gently stroke my cock, she suddenly puckered her wrinkled lips and leaned in, placing a delicate little smooch on my shaft. The sight of those ancient lips, the same ones that used to plant kisses on my boo-boos, now paying tribute to a much more forbidden area caused it to swell magically.

I don’t cry out, but the feeling takes my breath away for a moment. Grandma’s hands are so gentle and warm, and the sensation of her fingers sliding up and down my member sends shivers down my spine. When her weathered lips finally part, a filmy white residue breaking at the edge of her mouth, her gums are pink and wet and surprisingly enticing. She moves in, her mouth pursing around the head of my swollen cock, leaving faint traces of her lipstick.

When I finally feel the warm wetness of her mouth, I do cry out. The sensation is more pleasurable than I had ever dreamed off, and I couldn’t help but watch as her plump gums slid up and down my shaft. Her lips, which had soothed countless scrapes and bruises of my youth, now wrapped around the head of my penis with newfound purpose. The feeling was more amazing than anything I had ever experienced before, and I knew then and there that my Grandma truly loved me.

As my breathing got more erratic, she bobbed her silver-topped head faster, and I marveled at the way the soft cushions of her gums felt like sandpaper as they scraped against my sensitive cock. Her saliva was thick and warm, and I felt it drip down my length, where it pooled in the small patch of pubic hair at the base.

“Oh…Grandma….,” I managed to gasp. It was difficult to speak anymore, but I wanted to let her know. “I love you so much. You’re the best Grandma ever…” I couldn’t seem to help the way my hips wanted to move, to start pumping and thrusting into her face.

She smiled around my member, and a small, purring sound of obvious joy emanated from deep within her, a feminine coo, “Mmmmmmm….” My compliment seemed to fuel her desire even more, and she began to suck more eagerly, letting my meat slide all the way to the back of her throat. She let out a small gagging noise, but her years of experience won out, and I felt her throat constrict tightly around me. Her nose pressed against my stomach, and I felt her hot breath as she struggled to breathe.

Suddenly gripping the base with one bony hand, my grandmother slid her mouth back up slowly and let her tongue dance around the head of my cock. She let it tickle the slit at the tip, as if trying to push it inside, before finally wrapping her sloppy lips around me once more. This time she used her hand as well, jerking me off in tandem with the bobbing of her head. Every now and then she let out a tiny whimper, soft and desperate like the mewling of a kitten, and the sound made my cock throb harder each time.

It wasn’t going to take me much longer. This feeling was new to me and it was so overwhelming, that I could already feel something starting to shift inside of me, as all sensation seemed to focus on my grandmother’s mouth on my cock. She seemed to sense it, bobbing her head more quickly, her blue-veined, arthritic hand sliding faster up and down my shaft.

The tension grew, reaching unbearable levels, and suddenly my cock felt galvanized with pleasure, becoming impossibly hard in Grandma’s mouth. She pursed her lips around it as if sucking on a straw, and as I felt my hot seed explode between her ancient lips, she swallowed it eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the head as I continued to release spurt after spurt of salty cum into her mouth, and she moaned in obvious pleasure as she drank it down. She took all of it, not spilling a drop, her throat convulsing around the thick liquid, milking every drop out of me until I grew so sensitive I had to make her stop with a laugh.

She leaned back, smiling wide, her eyes shining with desire. I saw her throat constrict twice as she swallowed down the last chunks of my load, and the thought was erotic as hell. “Grandma…,” I whispered, smiling back at her. “You’re the best…”

She nodded, wiping a hand absently across her mouth. “Anything for my little Snickerdoodle,” she says affectionately. “I would do whatever it takes to put a smile on that face.” She stands up with a grunt, her knees popping audibly. “Ahh…,” she groans, “…just promise me you won’t get old…”

I smiled. That’s my Grandma.

“Ok, Grandma, I won’t,” I say sleepily, and she smiles.

“That’s a good boy.” She chuckles as she hobbles her way over to the kitchen counter. “Now how about that grilled cheese?” She pulls the bread out of the bread box.

I was stunned but pleasantly surprised by what has just happened. Obviously this secret will stay between me and my Grandma, a special moment just between her and her little Snickerdoodle. My parents didn’t need to know about it.

I lazily refastened my pants and sat up. Grandma looked over at me from where she was buttering the bread and smiled tenderly. “If you ever have an itch like that again, you just come see your Grandma, ok sweetie?”

I froze, my eyes wide. “Um…ok Grandma. Even if I get a girlfriend?”

She laughed. “Oh sure, sweetie, even then. Grandma will suck on your penis ANY time you need me to. All you have to do it ask.” She turned on the stove and placed a frying pan on it, getting ready to cook me a grilled cheese after my blowjob.

Grandma took such good care of me. She always knew how to make me feel better.

I visit her house much more often these days, and every time, Grandma sends me home with a smile. I’m hoping that someday she will show me what other things feel like too. It wouldn‘t be long, I could feel it…I was already wearing her down. Soon I will have fully seduced my Grandma, and she could take care of all of my big-boy needs.

I love going to Grandma’s house!