======== 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 If you like this story, please archive it. 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