Image via Pixabay
As many of you will know I enjoy getting involved in Sinful Sunday, while it is a great place to share images and find inspiration for new ways to create my own images, every now and then it inspires a blog post too. This time it is the wonderful image from Love is a Paraphilia. I was a bit stumped for a Masturbation Monday post this week, life has got a lot going on and I think a little bit of writer’s block set in towards the end of last week. But I couldn’t stop musing on the idea of discarded Polaroids being found in an old and derelict building, so I let my mind run with it and this is what came of that inspiration.
The old manor house had always been in a state of disrepair, new owners that purchased it but never saw fit to renovate let it move into derelict territory. As it lay abandoned it was impossible not to imagine what it could once have been, what memories must lie within its walls, as I stood in front of it I recalled the experiences I had there myself before it had fallen to be the ruin it now was.
We were young, adventurous and definitely thrill seekers, we engaged in what many people would consider ‘bedroom activities’ in a myriad of places, and rarely were any of them even close to a bedroom. Even as the seasons changed, and bright summer days gave way to autumn leaves and winter frosts we could still be found cavorting outside in various states of undress exploring the most intimates parts of one another.
When we discovered the old house, deathly quiet and without inhabitants to fill it with life and atmosphere we felt it was our duty to change that, even if it was only for brief moments at a time. That first visit we trailed our fingers along dusty bannisters, as sunlight beamed through cracked windows and a warm summer breeze whistled through the encroaching gaps in the brickwork. We wandered idly from room to room, trying to find our favourites spots for some debauchery, our lips meeting under vast cobwebs, floorboards creaking as I ran from him playfully, aching for him to catch me before pinning me against a crumbling wall and doing all manner of delicious things to me.
We returned a few weeks later, a picnic and a blanket in hand. Settling ourselves in a large upstairs room, we looked out on the surrounding scenery and a wave of contentment washed over me that I knew I would treasure forever. As he led me to the blanket my fingers curled around his and I only saw fit to let him go once he had kissed them gently and placed them at my side as his own hands navigated to the buttons of my blouse.
He moved slowly and deliberately as he removed my clothes and lay me down upon the blanket. My pulse was beginning to race, my breathing was deep and heavy and my body began to twitch and tingle beneath the weight of his gaze, and the seductiveness of his touch. As his fingertips danced lightly upon my skin the longing I felt consumed me and having him inside me, filling me and fucking me was the only solution to the burning need I was feeling.
I pulled him to me, my lips hungrily seizing his, my hand removing his clothes in a far more frenzied manner than he had removed mine. The sunlight beamed through the window, falling on his beautiful sunkissed skin, my hands fell flat against his chest pushing him down onto his back as I settled on my knees between his thighs so I could pull at the waistband of his trousers and underpants, freeing his cock, which greeted me erect and most definitely ready for action.
It has been a long time since I saw that sight, it has in fact been a long time since I’ve seen his face. Old age comes to us all, and his time was up before mine. It’s a blessing to have such wonderful memories to look back on though and visiting our old haunts makes me feel closer to him, and that joy is doubled my families amazement over discovering all the places we used to frequent, though I am sure they don’t suspect quite what we got up to there. I am much slower now as carefully tread the dilapidated floorboards, a grandchild on each arm warning me not to fall or their Mother will kill them. When we enter the room we most often chose for our salacious visits I am instantly transported back to that first day we spent there.
The memory of straddling him is vivid, his hands reaching up to fondle my breasts, his cock eagerly nuzzling at my opening. As I pushed down onto him, a gasp of pleasure escapes my lips and my body is stilled as I melt into the feeling of him. Then his hips began to move beneath me, slowly at first, a gentle tease of what is to come. He knew that soon enough I would be keen for his thrusts to be faster, harder and deeper, but his slow, gentle rhythm continued, a wicked grin spreading across his face because he knew I would soon be begging for more.
When the moment came and more was most definitely needed, I dropped my mouth to his ear, my breasts dangling enticingly close to his mouth. The low whispered plea of ‘please I need you to fuck me’ nearly always got me the goods I was after. This time though it was not before he had grabbed my tits firmly in his hands and sucked and nibbled at my nipples. I groaned and writhed, as pure animalistic lust coursed through me.
When he entered me from behind, our youthful knees barely even registering the hard wooden floor beneath them, I felt my spirit soar as he fucked me, hard, deep and relentlessly. His hand woven into my hair, my back arched, his balls slapping against my cunt as it grew increasingly wetter. We lived for these moments, with no one to bother us, just the nearby birds chirping and the great outdoors waiting for us when we were done. The world felt like it belonged to us, but most of all we felt a wonderful sense of belonging to each other and our secret, naughty adventures were a beautiful way to enhance that feeling.
As often happened, that particular session finished with us lying in a tangled heap, breathless and sweaty and eagerly reaching for something from the picnic box to sate our stomach’s hunger, now that the hunger of our sexual beasts had been addressed. I thought back on how glorious he was in those moments, full of life and passion our love spreading around and through us, binding us together in a way I had only ever dreamed of until I met him.
When I open my eyes, his face is reflected in that of my grandson, and a different kind of love warms me and it is a comfort to know I could share some if not all of my memories of him with our loved ones. As I prepare to leave a once beloved place, for what was probably the last time, my grandson, thankfully an adult, but no less prone to embarrassment, tentatively presented me with a pile of old polaroids.
Faded from exposure to the elements, but perhaps preserved somewhat by the layers of dust, the images were still very much visible. I had forgotten we used to document these adventures with photos when finances allowed the purchase of Polaroid cartridges for what was then a very fancy camera. While chaste by today’s standards the images of me flaunting my undergarments had caused an incredible blush on the cheeks of my family members, even more so when I confirmed, without the gory details, that their Grandfather/Father and I did indeed enjoy ourselves in many sexy ways both with and without the aches and pains of old age. I giggled as I imaged the smack on the bum I would have gotten for teasing the youngsters had my husband still been with us, probably accompanied by a well-done wink as we conspired to embarrass them even further at another point in time.
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