Granny was born in 1901, or thereabouts, according to Roz’s mother. It seemed such a long time ago, and her granny had died when she was 7 years of age. She still had a couple of pictures of the two of them; one was on a balcony in her arms both smiling at the camera and another taken in a hospital sitting on granny’s bed playing with toys. She assumed it was around the time she died but had never clarified that.
Her mother and father were separated. She had lived quite harmoniously between her two parents’ homes for her younger years, they were conveniently in the same town. Life was okay, mum and dad were more chilled out and she, being a teenager, exploited that when the fancy took her. On more than one occasion she had stayed out in limbo between both parents’ understanding as to where she might be. Parents who stopped talking gave her the edge. Only once did things not go to plan, and the timing was terrible.
John was about 10 years older than her and ran the outdoor activity shop. He climbed and hill-walked and was part of the local mountain rescue team. He was tanned with a short beard and nice smile. Roz had a part time job there and quite often would stay after closing to set up some elaborate demonstration stand to promote a new product. One such evening John had ropes connected to the iron beams in the ceiling and wanted to suspend a mannequin climbing gear from it. Roz’s lack of knowledge did not go unnoticed, which then prompted her being fitted into a climbing harness and suspended a few feet off the floor. The feeling of the straps digging into her skin stirred something inside her.
“How high can I go in this?” She had asked.
And as she watched the muscles in John’s arms pulling her higher and higher, she became more wet between the legs. Working in a outdoor activity shop is not the centre of fashion, and now dressed in light grey walking trousers her excitement was about to be shared. As she slowly spun in John’s direction he eyes caught one of the large dressing mirrors which reveal a large dark patch between legs. With the harness cutting tight between her legs the shape of her lips could also be seen.
“I didn’t realise climbing excited you so much.” Came an amused voice from below.
Two night’s later she was both between homes and between floor and ceiling once more, only naked. This time John’s face was buried between her legs. He stood back smiling having made her squirt. His face was flushed, sparkles of moisture glimmered in his beard and his bare chest was soaked. He looked pleased with himself as though he had just wrestled a wild animal. She just wanted to be fucked so hard by this man; and then her mobile phone rang, the ring assigned to her mother. John looked to the piles of clothes where the sound was coming from and then at Roz.
“It’s okay it’s my mum, I’m supposed to be at my dad’s. Please, just fuck me.”
John dropped his shorts and his cock sprang up comically. With a few long strides he was inside her, no hesitation, no gentleness, she was impaled on his cock and immediately squirted again, shaking violently. John just held her, with every inch inside her. He moved his hips back slightly and that started Roz to shake again. By the time the two of them found a rhythm Roz was leaning back in the harness and almost crying from the feelings she felt; and then the phone rang again, first her mother, which rang out, and then a normal ring tone, which she knew for sure was her dad.
Having been hastily taken down and two quick telephone calls confessing to being out with friends, she went home to her mother’s house. The mood was to be expected, and after skulking off upstairs to get a bath she stood in from of her bedroom mirror, naked and half admiring the rope and harness marks on her skin. She closed her eyes and touched her clit savouring the memory of earlier.
“Looks like you have a found a new hobby.” Her mother said suddenly from behind her.
Sitting at the kitchen table much later with two cups of hot chocolate between them, her mother tried to be supportive in the way a parent tries without getting too many details.
“You’re more like your granny than me that’s for sure. I never had much interest in sex, maybe that’s why your dad was more interested in gardening.”
“Lol, and what do mean, more like granny?”
Roz’s mum went over to the old chest of drawers that contained all the things you could never find when you needed them, from paperclips to wrapping paper and old gloves. She came back with a small stack of letters with faded script hand writing on an envelope and a postage stamp depicting a former King.
“When we cleared granny’s house out I found these. She would have been around your age when they were written. I have no idea who the person is that wrote to her, but he did have a camera. She took a very delicate photo from an envelope and slid it across the table.
On the back it said, ‘Watching you walk around the room all night like this at the party, I thought I would share one of my keepsakes considering we shared our fantasies for a night.”
Roz blew out a long soft whistle and looked up at her mother. They stared at each other for a second before falling in to hysterical laughter.