"Why don't you sell the house and move in with me." Grandpa suggested. As a freelance writer I could work from anywhere. And the money from selling Dad's house would be a nice retirement nest egg for me. The irony was that Dad hated that I was gay and had become distance and cold in the years after coming out to him.
Despite being sixty, Grandpa Cox had the physique of a pumped-up forty-year-old. His pecs were bigger than mine, and his biceps were massive. But his most striking feature was his Caribbean blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through anyone who met his gaze. He lived in a cabin in Northern Wisconsin, owning the lake and about ten acres, far from the maddening world. He had spent years as a policeman before retiring. Like Dad, Grandma had died of a massive coronary years ago.
"Thanks Grandpa, I think that's a wonderful idea."
"I have the internet so you can do your work without a problem and stay in touch with the outside world. You know how to get here, don't you?"
"Yea, I remember, grandpa."
"Good boy."
The next few weeks flew by in a haze. Selling the house and packing up my life was no small task. Driving from Chicago to Northern Wisconsin, the autumn colors painted my trip in rich hues. I gave Grandpa a call to let him know I was about half an hour out. A quick stop at a small grocery store for a few essentials led me to a liquor store, where I grabbed him a case of his favorite Wisconsin beer—something he loves as much as I love my whiskey.
I found the private road that led to his cabin and the lake. After driving about a mile, it came into view—the beautiful, pristine oak cabin, the lake, and the surrounding woods. I smiled, remembering the summers I spent here as a kid. Such great memories. The place radiated peace. I parked next to Grandpa’s jeep, grabbed some supplies, and walked up the wooden stairs to the covered porch. In the traditional sense, it was a log cabin.
The door opened, I put the provisions on the wooden bench. Grandpa wrapped his big arms around me and surprisingly ... he kissed me ... he kissed me on the lips, no tongue. My cock twitched. It had been so long since anyone had kissed me passionately. "I can't wait to paint you." When grandpa retired, he started painting again, it was truly his first passion.
"Oh, You're finally here. Is there anything more in your pick-up Will?"
"My Suitcases, that's it.'"
"You know where the kitchen is."
The cedar smell of the interior of the cabin intoxicated me. I started putting things away.
When Grandpa came back, he told me. " I cleared two drawers for you in the bedroom and there's a lot of closet space." To me that sounded odd.
When everything was put away, I walked into what I thought was going to be my bedroom only to discover the room had been converted into his art studio and a gym equipment as well. I went to his bedroom and saw two open drawers. I guessed we'd be bunking down in one bed. Okay. I put my underwear, socks and t-shirts in one drawer. Winter clothes in the second drawer and everything else hung in the closet
Grandpa stuck head his in the bedroom. "Do you want to smoke a joint? I grow my own."
This was new I said to myself. "Sure ... I'd love a joint after the long drive."
"And I want you to pose for me. Paint you. Is that okay?"
"Sure. "We sat on the bench and smoked some marijuana. Talk about the past while we ate lunch. The Pot was good and I was mellow.
The rest of the day was event-free. We walked around the lake. Grandpa had made Chile for dinner and as the moon rose, we smoke some more weed. I was beat and excused myself.
"Do you sleep on the left side or the right side." Grandpa asked.
"Left"
"Perfect I sleep on the right. Cool!"
Hearing Grandpa say cool and smoking pot made me want to ask, "Who are you and what have you done with my grandfather."
I groggily woke up at 2 or 3 and closed my eyes to go back to sleep. That's when I felt something odd. Grandpa's huge hand was on my hip with three fingers under the waist band of my briefs. He muttered in his sleep.
Thankfully I went back to sleep. In the morning I questioned whether my last night's observation was real or a dream.
At breakfast Grandpa said he wanted to start painting me.
"That's cool. I want to get a workout with your weights in the art studio then I'm all yours."
"Good for you. I have to work on my pot garden for a while. Meet in the studio in an hour or so so."
I had a good workout. They were high quality weights too. Grandpa walked in minutes.
"How do you want me? on the weights on the chair. What?"
"For starters take your clothes off. I'm painting you in the nude."
"Really? Naked."
"Yeah, come on."
Stunned, I slowly removed my t-shirt, dropped my gym shorts and my jockstrap. He painted for two hours. I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom but noticed I'd left my jock in the Studio. It there I saw Grandpa holding my jock under his nose whacking his big dick.
For me it was cocktail hour. I poured a whiskey-seven heavy on the whiskey and relaxed on the bench.
I made no mention of the day's oddities.
At some point during the night Grandpa pulled my tighty-whities down and laid his 8-inch dick in the crack of my ass --right up against my tight butthole. Being a workaholic, I found no time to foster friendships let alone finding a boyfriend. I hadn't had sex in over two years.
After breakfast I got naked and posed again for Grandpa again.
My dick was confused. I felt intoxicated. I got dressed.
And then the doorbell rang.
Grandpa opened the door. A Handsome man about Grandpa's age and a younger, handsome dude maybe close to my age.
"Come on in, Wilbur." Grandpa turned to me. "Wilbur's my fuck buddy."
With pride Wilbur introduced his grandson. "This is Ian, Will."
Grandpa introduced me. "Ian this is my grandson Will.
Will and Ian smiled at each other, with a smirk. As if to say. "What the Fuck!"
Wilbur smiled, Who wants to get stoned?
CHAPTER TWO: Fuck Buddies!!
