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Wolf - 1: Meets Grandma
by Jack Rabbit (address withheld)

***

Widow Grandma Sara, lives alone on the nineteenth 
century western frontier. She gets involved with Wolf, 
a sixty year old traveler from nowhere, when he stops 
to rest his horses. Wolf, a hard working handyman, 
offers to do some repairs on her place in return for a 
few days lodging. Despite evidence that he is attracted 
to very young girls, she finds that Wolf is a 
gentleman, and invites him to her bed. (MF, rom, voy, 
mast, oral, fan, ped)

***

WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1
WOLF WITH HANSEL AND GRETEL - PART 2
WOLF AND JACK - PART 3
WOLF WITH THE TEN LITTLE INDIANS - PART 4
WOLF WITH THE THREE LITTLE PIGS - PART 5
WOLF MEETS LITTLE RED - PART 6

Author Note: This story is a work of fantasy fiction, 
adapted from traditional fairy tales written as 
creative entertainment, and should not be viewed as 
more than a work of fiction. The Wolf stories tell of 
his intimate adventures from a Grandma's point of view. 

ARCHIVIST'S NOTE: The author did not supply a contact 
address so we are unable to direct you to any other 
parts unless they are supplied by the author.

***

WOLF MEETS GRANDMA - PART 1

Grandma Sara's Memoirs:

Out nowhere Wolf showed up at my cabin one day, riding 
in from the western forests on his pinto, towing a pack 
horse with all his belongings. I'm not sure where he 
originally came from. Not even certain if I know his 
real name. I think he told me his parents were German 
immigrants that his family name was Weiss, or something 
like that, but he just went by that nickname. Called 
himself Wolf. That was all. Gaunt build, sixty, he had 
a sun darkened complexion, gray beard and white hair, 
thinned on top, I think he said in his younger years he 
had a family, but I couldn't swear to it. He wouldn't 
talk about his past, except to say that there were 
problems he preferred not to go into. 

Before I say more about Wolf, I should explain about 
me. The younger people call me granny. I wish they'd 
stick with Sara. That's my name. I guess granny is 
better that 'Widow Sara' or 'Old Lady'. This is the 
house, actually not much more than a log cabin with 
rooms like a house. It is something my late Charlie 
built for us, where we raised our kids, all of them 
somewhere else now raising kids of their own. The place 
has two bedrooms, a combination living room and dining 
room, a large kitchen and pantry, and a cleaning room 
where we could take baths or do laundry. 

Charlie put in a fireplace and a pot-belly cast iron 
kitchen stove with a big oven, plus a hot water tank so 
that it was easier to take warm baths or do laundry. He 
installed a water pipe straight from the nearby creek 
up to the house that could be turned on or off as the 
need arose. Still had to go to the outhouse for 
business, but that's country life. 

I'd been alone in this cabin for more years than I care 
to remember, and I did all right for myself making pies 
from apples I get from the orchard Charlie planted, or 
from berries that grow wild on the mountain trails. Mr. 
McClain, or his son Jack, come out once a week with 
flour and sugar and spices and other needs in their 
wagon, and go back to town with as many pies as I could 
make. The ranchers and loggers and miners love my pies, 
so I make a profit and do pretty well. 

Anyway, Wolf rides in, just passing through, and offers 
to pay me to feed and water his horse, so I invited him 
to stay for lunch. The smell of my kitchen is a draw 
for wanderers passing by. Usually I charge a little to 
feed strangers, but Wolf impressed me. Hell, he didn't 
talk that much, but he listened when I told him more 
about my business than I should, and when he responded 
to things I said, he made me laugh. 

After eating, when he was getting ready to move on, he 
thanked me. He was a handy man, and he noticed the hole 
in my barn roof. He offered to fix it if he could sleep 
in the hayloft for a few days and give his animals a 
rest. How could I pass up a chance like that?

He fixed the barn roof, using the tools and pieces of 
wood he found in the barn. I watched him intently. He 
removed his shirt to work, and then climbed the ladder 
with a box full of shingles and his tools. Working in 
the afternoon sun apparently made him warm, as the 
sweat glistened on his back. I thought maybe he was 
trying to show off to get me interested. You know how 
men are when it comes to that sort of thing. I wouldn't 
mind a little male attention. 

I dusted the flour off my apron and adjusted my hair. 
He didn't pay any attention to me in that way. He was 
friendly and courteous and attentive, but kept calling 
me ma'am, as if I was someone's granny. Hell I am 
someone's granny. Who was I trying to fool? I should be 
thankful he wasn't a brute. However, as I cooked a 
dozen pies that afternoon I caught myself looking in 
the mirror. The ankle length plain brown skirt expanded 
from a narrow waist to hang over broad hips. 

I secretly wished I had worn my flower print dress. 
Secured with a yellow bodice, my loosely fitting white 
blouse blossomed out over the breasts. I knew the large 
breasts were a sensual draw for most men. Thinking 
about it made me sigh, made my nipples stiffen 
automatically, pushing like well defined buttons into 
the cotton. The leather vest hanging loosely obscured 
that naughtiness. 

I knew my shape was right. Men in town often whistled, 
making suggestions I usually ignored. But, my gray hair 
and facial age lines were a problem. I should put on 
makeup and lipstick. That might give the wrong signals. 
I went back to my cooking. 

The barn roof was repaired in short order. Wolf then 
cleaned his horses, set his bedroll up in the loft, and 
then came to talk with me as I was preparing dinner. I 
still had leftover stew from the day before, which we 
both found appealing. We talked about the forest I 
lived in and the nearby town. Then he offered to do 
more handy work if I needed. I could use a little help. 

I prepared a bath for him to use while I was outside 
taking care of the chickens and cows in the barn. 
Finally, at dark we said goodnight to each other. He 
slept peacefully in the hayloft that night, then worked 
all the next day. He repaired the porch floor, and 
patched up the fence around the chicken coop. That took 
the day again, so he stayed in the loft a second night. 
He seemed quiet the gentleman, so my fears ebbed. 

He prepared to leave the following morning, but over 
breakfast Wolf suggested that if I bought the 
materials, he could build me some shelves for cooling 
the pies. He retrieved a drawing pad from the load he 
was about to put back on the pack horse. 

With a pencil he sketched a design for the shelves, a 
suggestion that would offered great improvement to what 
I was doing by using all table and counter space to 
cool the pies when I took them out of the oven. He had 
a fine touch with his drawing that made me wonder about 
his past. He wasn't offering to do it for free. I'd 
have to pay him a standard wage plus grub and let him 
continue to sleep in the hayloft. I agreed. 

Since there was an extra bedroom, where the kids slept 
growing up, I offered to let him use those beds. By the 
evening meal he was about halfway finished with the 
shelves. He was sweaty and dirty, so once again I 
excused myself to do the outside chores so he could 
wash up. We had coffee and conversations, then excused 
ourselves to go to separate bedrooms. I drifted to 
sleep; thinking of the nearness of a man seemed to keep 
me awake.

I closed my eyes to listen to the sounds of the 
crickets outside. Mixed in were the metallic squeaks 
from the other bedroom. The kid's beds always squeaked. 
He must be tossing in the bed. I wondered if he was 
thinking of me. After awhile the squeaking stopped. 
Now, I may be old and dried out a little, but I still 
have a younger woman's shape. Hell, what can I say? The 
hair is gray, and there are wrinkles near my eyes, but 
I still have a modest waist, big hips, and large 
breasts. 

I used to like it when I was noticed the lumberjacks, 
at least until they saw the aging lines on my face. 
During the first week that Wolf was here, sleeping in 
the kid's bedroom, at night as I listened to his 
squeaking bed springs, I frequently thought it would be 
fun to be romanced again, but he never even hinted. I 
concluded I wasn't his type. Maybe he was shy. 

I thought about having fun with him, but knew it wasn't 
a good deal. Long past menopause. I would only 
embarrass myself and frustrate him. So I kept quiet. I 
tried massaging myself under the blanket. There was a 
tingling, but no matter how I tried, there was no 
moistness. I knew my thoughts were out of line with 
reality. I rolled over and went to sleep.

He finished the cooling shelves, and then offered to 
repair the outhouse. He was quiet, funny, and hard 
working, always the gentleman, so we extended the 
arrangement. I'd bake my pies while he did his 
carpentry.

One afternoon, waiting for the pies to bake, I entered 
his room to gather dirty clothes and blankets to wash. 
There was a rag under his bed, from the cleaning 
supplies storage. Picking it up, I found it wet and 
sticky. He must have spilled something, and cleaned up 
the mess. 

One of his saddlebags lay on the floor against a wall. 
A couple of sketchbooks were half out of the saddlebag. 
The title of the one on top, hand printed, stated, 'Ten 
Little Indians'. I was intrigued, but didn't want to 
snoop. My curiosity got the better of me. It was a 
sketch book, filled with erotic artworks of young 
Indian girls. 

I was shocked to realize that he was arousing his 
sexual desires with images of underage girls. A little 
disturbed, I felt guilty having looked. I wouldn't have 
wanted someone I barely knew going though my personal 
things, so I shoved the books back in the bag, and 
arranged it more neatly. That night, once again I heard 
the bed squeaking for quite awhile.

After chores the next morning, he joined me for a walk 
up the mountain trails to find berries. I brought along 
a picnic lunch, figuring the best place for 
blackberries was on the bluff above the lake. Next to a 
birch tree was a grassy patch obscured by a flowering 
bush. It offered a little shade from the sun, without 
blocking the lake view. It was great place to stop for 
lunch. 

Figuring I would test his interest in me, I wore a 
ruffled blouse a size too small to deliberately accent 
the appeal of my breasts. We didn't talk much while 
gathering berries, but over lunch he opened up a 
little, talking about his pinto. An Indian chief gave 
it to him years ago as a reward for favors he had done. 
I couldn't tell if he was focusing on my breasts or 
not. If he was, he was good at pretending not to 
notice. I was about to ask questions about the Indian 
chief when we heard voices. 

Two young school girls, herding a flock of twenty or 
thirty sheep, were walking along the lake shoreline. I 
recognized them. One was Bo-Peep, her family owned a 
sheep ranch. The other little girl was her cousin, 
Mary, who had taken one of the lambs as a pet. Kids in 
town made up poetic ditties about both of them. You 
know, "Mary had a little lamb," and so forth. 

I quietly informed Wolf who they were, but wanting to 
avoid attention, we remained silent, and shifted behind 
the bush. We could see them, but they wouldn't see us. 
They stopped at the meadow beside the lake to let the 
sheep graze. We listened to them chatter and giggle, 
discussing how it was a nice time to take a little dip 
in the water. When they were just below our bluff, 
about thirty feet away, it became unmistakable how they 
would go swimming. I felt naughty, grinning with Wolf. 
We peered down, watching them remove their dresses and 
under garments, hanging them on nearby bushes. Slipping 
out of their shoes, they then wading into the cool lake 
water stark naked. 

They enjoyed splashing in the buff. It made me ponder 
how, a long time ago, I had done the same with my 
friends when I was a girl. Little Mary was blond, while 
Bo-Peep had straight brown hair. Both had undeveloped 
little girl thin bodies. Then I glanced at Wolf. He was 
engrossed in staring at the girls with an impish smile 
on his lips, ignoring me and the picnic. 

A few feet below were naked young girls, with no 
discernible pubic hair between their legs to cover 
their pale vaginal slits. The lips of their little 
vulvas were prominent with highlights and shadows from 
the noon sun. Not much shape to their young bodies and 
no breasts to speak of. Their thin chests were 
highlighted with cherry red nipples sticking out. 

Wolf focused with fascination, his trousers bulging in 
the front. Those playful naked girls caused him to have 
an erection. I swallowed, quietly studying him watching 
the girls. I thought of his mysterious sketch book with 
the drawings of little Indian girls. Did he feel a 
similar arousal when he looked at me?

After a twenty minute swim, the girls got out of the 
water, gave the sun time to dry them, then got dressed, 
herded their sheep together, and wandered on in the 
direction they had been walking. The show moved on. I 
was curious about Wolf's arousal, but didn't dare bring 
it up. 

We ate our lunch, talked about my family, then returned 
to picking berries. He said nothing about either the 
little girls or my bouncing boobs. I took it as 
evidence of his being a shy gentleman around women. On 
the way back to the cabin he talked about further ideas 
he had to do handy-man improvements around my place. 

I kept up the conversation, but my thoughts kept 
drifting back to the naked girls and his unmentioned 
erection. Since he apparently was not going to make any 
moves on me that seemed improper, I wondered what would 
happen if I made myself obviously available.

That night I roasted a chicken for dinner after he 
killed and cleaned it. I even included potatoes and 
apple pie for the meal. He told jokes and stories all 
through dinner, and for an hour after while we sipped 
coffee. Despite my efforts to flaunt my breasts, he did 
not react with anything suggestive. 

He finally went to his bedroom, suggesting it would be 
a good time for me to have bath privacy. I did, and he 
remained behind closed door, although I could see 
candle light flickering under the door at the floor. As 
I lay in bed, once again, I listened to the squeaking 
bed from his room. 

When the sound faded, I got out of bed, donned my robe, 
and left my bedroom. Light was still flickering under 
his door, so I opened it. Stretched out with a blanket 
over him, he was wide awake. Again, there was a rag 
beside the bed that glistened with wetness. I told him 
I didn't want to disturb him, or seem too forward, but 
if he wanted to join my bed for the night, I would like 
that. My bed was big enough for two. 

Wolf had a dumb-founded look for several seconds, then 
grinned slightly. He made a funny comment, but readily 
agreed to my offer. I was surprised that under his 
blanket he was naked and aroused already. My eyes went 
straight for his male member, it was larger than what I 
remembered from Charlie. 

What can I say; I behaved like a tramp. In the years 
since Charlie died, I had not known a man. I turned to 
lead Wolf to my room, but he took my hand, and spun me 
back to him. Taking my waist with his other hand, Wolf 
pulled me to his naked body, and lowered his head to 
kiss me, long and slow. I could feel his erection 
pushing against my lower stomach through the nightgown. 
Wolf moved his hands to the sides of my face as he 
continued with his passion kiss, while I pulled open 
the nightgown, and let it drop from my arms.

While continuing to kiss me, I felt a warm excitement 
from his aroused manhood pressing into my belly. 
Bending to kiss me my neck, his hand slid down my back 
slowly, resting finally on my rump. I pushed back a 
little to catch my breath and to reach down and grasp 
his rock-hard manhood. I could feel liquid oozing. With 
him standing before me, I started pumping it the way I 
used to do for Charlie. 

I was worried I couldn't generate enough moistness 
between my legs to offer anything meaningful, but I did 
enjoy rubbing him that way. He started groping my 
breast, but then reached to hold my shoulders as he 
uttered a groan and began erupting with several squirts 
all over my midsection. He leaned back, and howled like 
a wolf as he erupted. His hard member softened in my 
hand and dropped to normal. 

I was as aroused as I had been in years, but he was 
finished already. I helped him sit on my bed, walked 
across the room to get a wash rag and towel, where I 
cleaned myself off. Returning to Wolf, I was certain he 
was finished for the night. I hoped to lay with him and 
snuggle our naked bodies for the night. That's all I 
wanted, anyway. But watching me walk naked in the fire 
light, I could see that Wolf getting aroused a second 
time.

Thinking about the evidence of masturbation when I 
entered in his room, I guessed it was the third time. 
He seemed to understand my age limitations, for he 
suggested I get some cooking lard to apply to his 
erection. He lay back on my bed for me to start 
massaging lard liberally on to his member. In a moment 
he was hard and slippery, so I got on top to straddle 
him, sinking down to drive his rod deep inside me. 
There was considerable resistance, but it felt great 
striving for the pulsating pleasure surges I had not 
experienced for years 

For the first time since Charlie died, I made 
passionate love to a man as best I could. It seemed all 
the more passionate, because he was a stranger, where I 
had seduced him in an unbelievable trampy approach. 
After we concluded the intercourse, it felt like I had 
tasted the forbidden fruit. We took turns massaging 
each others genitals. 

I wasn't up to oral sex, but he was. Wolf nibbled his 
way from my throat down to my breasts, taking time to 
suckle each of the nipples standing up from my globes. 
He nibbled my belly button, then worked his tongue 
around the bush and between the lips of my vulva, 
slowly licking my clit like a dog. I had been certain I 
was too old to get fully aroused, but after a minute of 
this, once again I was warm and moist between my legs, 
and that surprised me. 

Finally, he rolled me on the bed, climbed over me, and 
used one hand to guide his erection into my femininity. 
He had stamina and, although my body was painfully 
reluctant to yield to another insertion. I had passion 
I did not expect. I tolerated the pain of him inside me 
as the passion of the moment made the enjoyment more 
desirable than the pain that accompanies it. 

I had at least six screaming climaxes from his slowly 
rotating piston pumping intercourse. I quivered from 
his multiple eruptions within me, giving me a feeling 
of happy contentment. I was mildly lubricated until I 
climaxed. As he continued pumping, my insides dried and 
began to hurt. He just kept going and going. Although I 
was ready to stop, he wasn't, so I didn't say anything 
to end his enjoyment. After a few more minutes we both 
collapsed with exhaustion. We fell asleep wrapped in 
each other's arms.

During the night I was nudged out of my slumber when he 
got up to step outside and pee. He returned quietly, 
trying not to wake me, but my thoughts were of his 
manhood, and how I had forgotten over the years how 
pleasurable it was to have a man inside me. The pain of 
the penetration mildly throbbed within my hips, but 
once again, I began to get warm and wet between my 
legs. I slid my hand down his body to his member, 
finding likewise he was aroused and ready. 

Without saying a word, I rolled on top of him, spread 
my legs over his hips, and using my hand, I slid down 
into place. Once he was in deep, securing me with his 
hands on my buttocks, I clamped my legs together and 
began rotating. It did not take long. The stuffiness 
hurt as before, but the electric pleasures of my 
climaxes struck simultaneous with his warm eruption 
inside me. We slowed to a stop, two quiet grins in the 
candle light, then I rolled off, and over next to him, 
where I fell asleep.

The next day I could barely walk. My hips hurt from the 
expansion pressures I had not made allowances for. That 
evening, when Wolf was ready to resume the love making 
I told him about the pain I was experiencing, 
apologizing and offering to use my hands to arouse him 
as best that could be. Being a gentleman that he is, he 
agreed. He tried to stimulate my desires with his 
fingers or his tongue in my love canal, but it would 
only help a little. 

When we tried to take his manhood inside, it was just 
too tight and painful. We had to please our desires 
with mutual masturbation. For the first time I learned 
to give a man oral sex, gagging at first time he came 
in my mouth, but I learned to like the feeling of his 
climatic eruption. It actually tasted good.

During the days that followed we repeatedly explored 
each other most intimately. I couldn't keep up with his 
level of intensity. I enjoyed his sexual enthusiasm, 
though I could only handle intercourse once in awhile, 
and then for a short time

Although I knew there was reason to believe Wolf would 
soon just move on without warning, I was getting 
comfortable having him around. He was a hard working 
handyman, repairing everything that needed to be 
repaired, making carpentry improvements to the house 
and barn where it would help. Although I couldn't deal 
with his oversized penis, I enjoyed cuddling with him 
in bed and the limited hand and oral molestation he 
shared with me. 

He complimented my uses of my hands to repeatedly bring 
him to a climax. He did not complain, but I knew he 
felt he was missing something. I kept thinking of the 
afternoon he got so aroused watching two young girls 
splashing naked in the lake. I decided I would just 
accept him as an intimate friend for as long as he was 
there, and not worry about when or why he would 
eventually wander on. 

To be continued...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 52