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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
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Author’s Notes:
This is a long publication for Literotica. I have written nearly 200,000 words about Celeste, and I plan on publishing much of her story here, so this one time reading the background will carry the reader through quite a lot of the good stuff still to come.
Considerably more than half of this story is leading up to and the part of these stories why we all read them. This is broken down into chapters, for the readers comfort. The first chapter is background of Celeste’s childhood that explains her motivations and thoughts that make her the adult she becomes.
I think that the background is important, not just for this account, but also for the many that will follow, and will alleviate some confusion if the background was omitted.
All active characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older. All characters and events in this story are fictional; any similarities with actual individuals, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
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CHAPTER 1
Hi. I’m Celeste, or Celie for short. I just turned 18 a couple of weeks ago and have a story to tell you, but I want to tell you about me first. I’m selfish like that.
I’d like to tell you about how normal I am.
In spite of having just turned 18, this is the summer before my first year of graduate school. I’ll be studying for a masters degree in astronomy and physics in the fall. I didn’t want to earn my masters from the same university where I got my bachelors degree, so I’ll be moving from Massachusetts to California at the end of the summer, and I’m so excited! I’m so excited about living in California that I had to tell you that first thing.
I’m the eldest of three siblings. My brother is two years younger than I, and my sister is three years younger than my brother. I think we had a mostly normal childhood until I was eight years old. Then my mother passed away from cancer. My grandfather is filthy rich and paid for all of mom’s “experimental” medical treatments that the insurance wouldn’t, always demanding the best treatments and spared no expense.
Shortly after mom died, my dad and the three of us children moved in with my grandfather. He lives in a huge, grand house with 8 bedrooms and 5 bathrooms, an indoor and an outdoor pool, room in the two attached garages for 6 cars, a theater room, and the most amazing fish tank I could ever dream of. I usually told classmates that my grandfather lived with us, but it was really the other way around.
I was always tall for my age, taller than all the other kids in my class, even taller than most of the kids in the next grade ahead of me. That was true until my grandfather convinced the school administration that I was ready for fifth grade instead of fourth, so I skipped a grade and fit in physically better then. At least from a body size perspective. Nothing, and I mean nothing could possibly allow my naturally curly red hair that cascaded down my back to midway between my shoulders and the small of my back to fit in. Nowhere would that flaming red mane fit in. My mom always liked my hair long, and if I straightened all the curls out, even at eight years old, I was forced to man handle it to avoid sitting on it.
Skipping fourth grade opened up a can of worms for the school district. Next my grandfather convinced them that in the seventh and eighth grades I should be taking high school classes, so I was technically a sophomore when I officially entered high school. Two years later I was gleefully celebrating high school graduation as the class valedictorian shortly before I celebrated my fifteenth birthday.
The school administration was sad to see their star pupil leave so soon, but not nearly as disheartened as the coaches of the sports teams . I stopped growing at twelve years old, right before I entered high school, but it took a little while for the coaches to really grasp the truth that this statuesque new student was only twelve. I stood at a firm five foot nine and a half inches tall, with finely rippled muscles under my light caramel colored skin. I am the product of a white woman with red hair and a biracial father. I got my curls and slightly non-white skin from him, but my red hair from her. I grew like my grandfather, who topped out at six foot one inch at twelve years old. He was a standout athlete in several sports in high school and college. This was another gift he had given me, along with my love of the stars and planets and the encyclopedic memory which allowed me to accelerate my education.
My siblings were not so lucky. They inherited dyslexia from my father, and though they were brilliant in their own rights, did well enough to get excellent grades consistently, but remain steadfastly on the line between excelling and falling behind. Thanks to my grandfather and his experience with raising a son with profound dyslexia, they had specialized tutors to work with them starting at a very early age.
Having graduated high school and preparing to attend college escort bayan bursa in the fall, the summer I turned fifteen was a time for relaxing at home. There had never been any pressure to find a teenage job. If I wanted or felt I needed something, I just needed a good reason and grandfather took care of it for me. He didn’t spoil me, but I never wanted for anything.
Since I was home constantly that summer, I noticed that, on a regular basis, a young Asian woman came to the house to see my grandfather for an hour or two, then left. It was usually the same woman, but a couple of times there was a different one. They were always dressed in loose fitting white sweat pants and loose white t-shirt. They never said much, but the housekeeper led them to my grandfather’s study. When they left, they silently let themselves out.
This mysterious Asian woman fascinated me, but the summer was too soon over. Too soon over, but not soon enough. I was ready to be on my own, in a different state, doing some real learning. I was so looking forward to college and everything it entailed, and this mysterious woman was a distant memory to me.
The next three years I spent working diligently on school. I had little time or desire for frivolity or socializing. People confused me anyway.
The next two summers were spent on an internship at an observatory in Australia. I loved the work, and Australia, but missed my dad and siblings, and especially my grandfather. Dad and the kids came to Massachusetts a couple of times each year, and my grandfather came with them a couple of times between the three years of school, but the time in Australia I was totally on my own. It was an exhilarating feeling to be totally, mostly, independent. I stayed with a woman, an astrophysicist, so my independence was tempered only slightly with that little bit of dependence, and I was a little disappointed when the summers were over and it was time to return to school.
My last year of college flew by. To me it seemed that only a few weeks had passed since coming back from Australia and we were getting ready for graduation. I had thought that my last year of college I would make some effort to make friends, go to a party or two, maybe flirt and go on a date. None of that had happened. I had never even taken the first step.
I had been given a nickname in college. My classmates called me ‘JB’. Eventually I found out it stood for ‘jail bait’. They used it out of spite, because I was always so much younger than my classmates, but also a warning. I wasn’t fuckable.
I wanted to be, but had no clue how to get from not fucked, to fuckable. I was just fucked when it came to getting fucked. I really was a child. Don’t misunderstand, physically I was every bit a woman. Almost every way. It seems my breasts had not gotten the same instructions the rest of me had been given. I stopped growing vertically at twelve, and had barely sprouted horizontally at that point. By the time I was about fourteen I was the proud owner of a barely noticeable set of solid B-cup tits. Since then I’ve only noticed any change to them in that my nipples now protrude over three quarters of an inch when I’m cold, or aroused. Unfortunately, the latter happens rarely, and then only in the privacy of my bedroom or bathroom.
Directly opposed to my tiny titties, I am never confused for a boy. My hair is the first giveaway, since I always wear it loose or just pulled back into a pony tail to keep it out of my face and even without being straightened, reaches to barely above the back of my knees. Secondly, and almost as noticeable are my 36 inch hips. I try desperately to not swing them as I walk, but it’s a natural thing that I just cannot help.
I’m so glad to be home from school and all the people who treated me as a child there. I’m a college graduate. I turned eighteen a few weeks ago. No longer am I jail bait. Now I just have to figure out how to talk to boys. And flirt. I long for personal contact with a human being. Hugs from siblings and parent or grandparent just aren’t cutting my need for affection anymore.
I had already, in the month since graduation, seen an Asian lady in white come to see him. It had been a few of years, but I don’t think this was the same one I had seen previously. My curiosity was again in full bloom. My thought was that maybe she was a physician of some kind. Even though he is in his late 70’s, he stays fit and looks very good for a man that age. I couldn’t imagine that there would be anything wrong with him, health-wise, and I was certain if there was, I had a right to know what was going on, and I had no hesitation in asking him.
I went straight to his room as the Asian woman left the house. I found his study empty, as well as his bedroom, but then heard the shower running, so I first sat, then sprawled out on the sofa in the ante room to his bedroom and started a game of solitaire on my phone.
I heard the shower go off, and a minute or two later heard the bathroom door open, so I looked up just in time to see my naked grandfather pass in front of bursa sinirsiz eskort the door into his bedroom. I couldn’t help but stare. I could see muscles ripple in his still obviously powerful thighs and calves as he moved. I also observed the first human penis I had ever seen in person. He was out of sight as quickly as he had appeared, but that picture was burned into my mind. A shock of curly brown hair from which sprouted, in a perfect arc downward, a penis about half the thickness of my wrist and about half a foot long.
“Celie, I’ll be out in a minute” came my grandfather’s baritone voice from his bedroom. He had seen me. I guess my glow-in-the-dark hair is hard to miss, especially when it’s splayed out covering well over half the 6 foot sofa.
He had seen me, and probably had seen me seeing him. This thought was still swirling wildly in my head when he entered the room. I had not decided how to act in light of the thoughts making my head spin. I was humiliated, of course.
“Grandpa, I, ummm, well… I…”
“Celie, sweetheart, it’s nothing to be talked about.”
My grandfather was wearing a pair of black slacks and pullover shirt, bare feet, and still wet hair from his shower. He was still very dashing. He smiled, and approached where I was sprawled, consuming the entire volume of the sofa. I felt like it was suddenly very hot in the room.
He reached down with both hands and picked up my legs by the ankles and swung them out of his way.
“Celie, I believe your face now matches the shade of your hair. Are you trying out a new camo effect?”
I quickly averted my staring eyes and lowered my head. “I’m sorry Grandpa, I didn’t think…”
“Celie, I should be the one sorry. What has been seen cannot be unseen. A beauty like yourself shouldn’t have her vision assaulted with a naked, grumpy old man.”
I didn’t know if he was joking or what, but I laughed involuntarily anyway. I was very pleased that I actually had on a bra of sorts, and my tee shirt was baggy enough to hide any hint of my huge erect nipples that might show though the bra.
“What can I do for you, Celie? You don’t usually come hunt me down without an agenda.”
“Grandpa, are you OK? I mean, healthy? Is there anything I need to know about?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Except the little bit of high blood pressure that I take a pill for everyday, I am as healthy as a horse. Why do you ask? What makes you think I’m sick?”
“Well, the lady that just left. She looks like she might be a medical type person, always wearing white. And I noticed a similar lady the last time I spent the summer here. She came lots of times that summer, always wearing white.”
“Ah. You noticed them. I was hoping it wouldn’t be so obvious..”
“So you are sick, Grandpa?”
“No. You know how people take mental health days from work when they’re not sick? That’s what those ladies do for me. I have a massage, and when needed, they do some ‘manscaping’.”
My confusion must have shown on my face, because he continued.
“It’s very relaxing and pleasant to be massaged. And I naturally grow nasty looking hair on my back, shoulders, and basically everywhere except the bottom of my feet. When I need, or want a massage, I have them come, and if I need any, they do waxing to remove the unwanted hair. Did you notice there was no hair on my back?”
I had, of course, not noticed. My tunnel vision was focused elsewhere. I must have been blushing again, and he must have thought it was from his mention of my catching him nude.
He laughed and apologized for mentioning it. “It won’t happen again, I promise. And it’s just between you and me, forever. Nobody else will know.”
Apparently someone else took over my body at that point. “Grandpa, I want to learn how to give a decent massage!” I blurted out before I even know the thought was in my head.
“For a long time I’ve thought it would be a fun thing to do, but I’ve never told anybody, or asked anybody if I could practice on them, and it’s not like I’ve had anybody in my life that I wanted to massage or anything, but I really want to learn” I almost babbled at him. What was I thinking?
“Sweetheart, you don’t want to rub on an old man like me. If you’re really interested, you can take some classes, but I think it would be a good idea to wait a few years until you’ve finished your education. That’s what you should concentrate on right now anyway.”
I was relieved. I didn’t mean to say that at all. It had never occurred to me to give anyone a massage. Apparently, however, I was still not the one in charge of the conversation I was having.
“Oh, I don’t want to officially learn or anything, I just want to learn enough to be able to make it feel good and not hurt anyone. I think if you asked that lady, then the next time she comes to massage you, she would be perfectly happy to guide me through it and then I’d know. You know how fast I learn, and once, maybe twice, I’d be like an old pro!” Again, I do believe I was rambling, and with good reason. escort bayan My brain had absolutely nothing to do with the words coming out of my mouth.
“Celie, I know how you are, and I might as well give in right now. I know that if I don’t, then this isn’t the last time we’ll have a conversation about it. I’ll talk to her.”
“Fuck!” I’m not one to swear much, but that’s what I said silently to whoever had been in charge during that conversation.
I had just agreed to give my grandfather a massage, with absolutely no prior thought to it. My nipples were aching inside my bra. I think I need to take a swim. The thought of so much skin to skin contact with any human being was so appealing. I think I needed it.
CHAPTER 2
During the next few days I busied myself with what I had been busying myself with since I had been home from school: reading, playing video games, playing the piano, swimming, making preparations for the move to another school where I would be working as a graduate assistant while working on my masters degree.
All the while, I was daydreaming about running my hands over my grandfather’s back, arms and legs. I imagined the warmth of his skin against my hands, and the friction produced. I wondered if the massage lady would use some fragrant oils, or hot stones. It was a very pleasant daydream. I was actually starting to look forward to it,even though the skin I would be touching belongs to my grandfather. Like I said, he keeps himself in decent physical condition, so it really won’t be much different than a younger person. Or stranger.
The following Monday morning, Dad had gone to work and my brother and sister were off to summer school, doing everything they needed to keep up with the kids who didn’t suffer from dyslexia. Mid-morning, my grandfather found me in the family room with the television playing a show about the most recent efforts to colonize Mars while I was on my laptop reading an article about the efforts to map the Kuiper Belt.
As he entered, I looked up and greeted him.
“Hi Grandpa. How are you today?”
He was smiling, so I knew something was out of the ordinary. “I spoke with my masseuse, and she has agreed to let you learn how to give a good massage.”
I closed my laptop and held it to my chest under crossed arms. I needed to do this because today I had no bra on under my loose fitting pullover shirt. I knew my nipples would soon be pressing against my shirt, as they always did when I thought of giving a massage.
“When?” I meant to say something not so eager, such as ‘That’s nice.’. I had even practiced saying that so it would sound natural.
“She will be here today at 1:00. Wear something loose fitting so it’s easy to move around. I think you’ll be doing most of the work. I’ll send you a text when she’s here.”
He smiled and turned to go about his business, and without thinking I said “Thanks Grandpa. I’m really looking forward to it.”
I couldn’t even sit there and finish my reading or television show. I went to my room and dug through the drawers of my dresser looking for something appropriate to wear, but instead decided on an over-sized dark blue pull over shirt made of fairly thick material that came out of a test tube and baby blue sweat pants from Walmart. I don’t know why really, but made the decision of no shoes. The same decision was made for a bra, because I knew I would be very uncomfortable in one based on how my tits acted just thinking about this event. I did put on some nice white cotton french cut panties with a tiny pink bow on the elastic at the front, quite a few inches below my naval.
I had some rather enormous hair clips I used on my hair when I played volleyball or basketball. I dug those out and went through the arduous task of managing my hair. I didn’t want to be fighting with it the entire time I was giving a massage. I took the entire mop of my hair at the base of my neck and turned it a couple of full turns, then put the clip around the entire thing and fastened it. The clips encircled all of my hair and held it firmly together. I repeated this 9 times until the last one, which was considerably smaller than the first, rested gently against my butt crack. I would tuck the entire snake of hair into the back of my shirt when the time came, and it would be securely out of my way.
I had just applied the slightest hint of a musky scented oil behind each ear when my phone alerted that I had a text. I grabbed my phone much more eagerly than I thought appropriate and read the words “Here. Meet in study”
My mind, and body, froze; the words “she’s early” spinning through my head as I assume I walked to my grandfather’s study. I don’t really remember.
I knocked, the masseuse opened the door for me and I entered. As she closed to door behind me I heard her introducing herself, so I tore my gaze from the naked male laying face down on a table in the center of the dimly lit room and focused on her. I had to look down to meet her gaze. She was barely over 5 feet tall, slim, small breasts, pretty eyes and gorgeous full lips. Her jet black hair was cut in bangs and the bit not running down her back fell down across her chest and stopped about the middle of her stomach. Not as long as mine, but still some long hair. She smiled and extended her petite hand and I shook it. It was warm, and tiny inside my normal lady sized hand.
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