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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Mike15a Maude mF mF mF inc pedo
From: fr582@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Max S. Wojtylak)
Date: 30 Jun 1996 17:58:43 GMT



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MAUDE: Knight Armed with a Shiner

By Uncle Mike


    I opened the front door and peeked around; it looked like 
the coast was clear. I slipped in and quickly walked over to 
the stairs, but just as I got to them a loud, deep voice 
stopped me in my tracks.

    "Philip! What are you doing home so early?"

    "Oh, hi, Grandma -- I mean, Maude. Uh, they let us out ..."

    "What happened to you?" My grandmother was tall and when 
she walked, her long housecoat billowed out behind her like 
some superhero's cape. She stood right over me, her gray hair 
shaking as she looked down.

    I was a mess. My jacket was torn and there was a hole in 
one knee of my jeans; on the other leg the jeans were almost 
completely torn off at the thigh, just hanging by a few 
threads. There were bruises and cuts and scratches all over, 
and when I'd snuck a look in some shop windows on the way 
home I thought I saw some dried blood around my nose and 
face.

    "Nothing happened," I said. If you're going to tell a lie, I 
always figured, tell a big one.

    It didn't work. "Nothing? You look like you went 10 rounds 
with Muhammad Ali!"

    "Yeah, I had a fight," I admitted. "But it was nothing." I 
turned to go up the stairs to my room.

    Maude -- my grandma always insisted I never call her 
Grandma, like my ma always wanted me to call her Carol -- 
anyway, Grandma grabbed me by the arm.

    "Ow! That hurts!" 

    She turned me around to face her again. "I think ... I think 
you're going to have a black eye, too," she muttered. "Go in the 
kitchen and have Florida put something on it. And some 
bandages," she called out as I walked away. 

    In the kitchen, our maid fussed over me. I could hear 
Grandma on the phone in the other room.

    "Yes, this is Maude Findlay, Philip Traynor's, uh, 
grandmother," she said. "No, grandMOTHER. Mr. Findlay has a 
much higher voice. I'm calling about Philip. He just came 
home covered with bruises. What's wrong with you people, 
letting a little boy get beaten up like that and then sending 
him home without any care? What's ... Oh, I see. I see. Yes. 
Well, yes. But ... Oh, I see. Uh-huh. Do you know what it was ... 
I see. He said what? I see. Yes. Well, thank you. Good-bye."

    I left the kitchen while she was hanging up and tried to get 
to the stairs before she saw me, but it didn't work.

    "Philip!" Again I froze.

    Her voice softened. "Philip, honey, I talked to the school. 
They said you just ran off without letting anyone help you. 
And that you fought some older boy. Something about your 
mother, they said, but they didn't seem to know exactly what. 
Now, Philip, you know we've taught you that violence is never 
the solution to anything."

    "Yes, but, what Billy said," I blurted out.

    Grandma cocked her head. "What did he say?"

    I looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze. When Grandma 
gets determined about something, you don't want to try to 
face her down. You'd have a better chance facing down a Mack 
truck.

    "Come on, Philip."

    "He said she was a whore with tits the size of beach 
balls," I said in a rush. I felt my face grow hot. "And he said 
all her brains were in her boobs and she was too stupid to 
make money doing anything but fucking!" 

    Then I stopped. The words had burst out of me without 
thinking and now they hung there like dark gray clouds. I 
figured the thunder and lightning would come next. Grandma 
always talked about how liberal she was, but when it came to 
kids she had some old-fashioned ideas about language.

    But instead of the storm, I got the silver lining. Grandma 
came over and hugged me -- gently, so as not to touch my 
bruises. "Philip, sweetie, that was very gallant of you," she 
murmured. "A man who defends a woman never has to feel 
sorry." She stepped back. "But perhaps you might have found 
some other way...?" I looked up at her, thinking about what a 
bully Billy Wilson was and thinking that words didn't help 
much when you're facing somebody who thinks a Batman 
comic book is quality reading.

    "I guess not," Grandma said, reading the look in my eyes. 
"Well, you go and wash up now, and we'll talk about this some 
more later." 

    I turned to go, but winced with pain as I lifted my leg to 
the first step. I guess I must have started to faint or 
something, because the next thing I knew Grandma had her 
arm around me and she was helping me up the stairs.

    I really was weak, so even though I was already 12 years 
old, I didn't argue when she stripped my clothes off and led 
me into the bathroom, turning on the water in the tub.

    As I lowered myself into the water -- the warmth felt 
really good, except where it stung some of my cuts -- 
Grandma rolled up her sleeves and grabbed soap and a 
washcloth.

    She washed me all over, being real careful when she got to 
the bruises and scratches. I began to feel better. It was 
funny, having somebody else scrub you down. Grandma got the 
cloth all soapy so it slid easy, big bubbles of lather.  I don't 
know if it was just the hot water or what, but I started 
feeling warm on the inside, too. Then something awful 
happened: I felt my dick starting to stiffen. I tried to think 
about something bad, like getting stabbed in the balls with a 
knife or have a car hit me, but it didn't help. My cock rose out 
of the water like a submarine conning tower just as Grandma 
started to wash my stomach.

    I tried to cover myself up, but when I moved my hands I 
splashed her a little and she looked down and saw. Then she 
drew in her breath real quick.

    "Philip!" she whispered. "You're ... you're not a little boy 
anymore, are you?"

    I wanted to just drop my head into the water and drown. 
Anything was better than having Grandma staring at my dick. 

    Then she actually reached out and touched it! I thought I 
would die. But it made my dick even harder and bigger. 
Grandma put her hand around in. The big, dark red tip bulged 
above her fist. Nobody had ever touched me there, at least not 
since I could remember. I'd masturbated myself, but this felt 
different -- you know, how you can't tickle yourself, but 
when somebody else does it, you go crazy? Grandma's hand 
was warm and all slick from the soap and it made my cock 
feel great.

    I guess that's why I started moving it in her grip. I didn't 
mean to or nothing, but it just happened. And Grandma, she 
started stroking it, too. She didn't say a word, just stroked 
it. Pretty soon I felt something in my balls. "Grand -- uh, 
Maude, I think I'm gonna shoot," I said, and sure enough a wad 
of cum burst out of the tip of my cock. Grandma pulled her 
head back just in time or it would have hit her right in the 
face.

    I didn't know what to say then, but Grandma started telling 
me how I shouldn't worry, it was natural for boys to do that, 
and stuff. 

    "I know," I said, "they told us about it in school. About how 
seeing pretty ladies can make us, you know, have an orgasm."

    Then Grandma blushed and seemed sort of confused. She 
started to say something when we heard a shout from 
downstairs.

MORE IN PART b






