The Marital Bed

It was her best night in weeks. Her memory was good, and she was nothing but smiles and laughter, while we chatted around the dinner table. Dana was ecstatic, to see her Grandmother doing so well. The kids took it in stride, and little Caroline was proud as a peacock when she presented us with the first apple pie she'd ever made. It was delicious.

Late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, my wife and I retired to our own. I knew I had to tell her what had happened. I was feeling more than a little guilty about it.

Dana had other ideas, as evidenced by a hot kiss, and her hand sliding down my body and caressing my alter-ego. I was hard in no time at all, and she was riding me. I watched her eyes open, and trace the names on the headboard as she often did, before closing them again. Her breath quickened, as did her motions. Then she was coming for me, and her passion ignited my own, urging me to grab her hips and finish with her. It was magical, but then again, it often was.

After cleaning up, we relaxed together, cuddling, while I held her. It was time.

"Grandma had a weird episode today," I said.

"Hmm?"

"I was out in the workshop, trying to finish that chair Grandpa had been working on. It bothered me that it was only partially done, and abandoned. While I was at it, she came out to check on me. She thought I was Grandpa."

Dana gave a little giggle. "That's such a surprise? You've seen the pictures when they were young. You look more like family than I do. I take too much after my Dad."

"She ... she touched me," I said nervously.

"Touched you? How?"

I was still holding her, and she didn't tense up or nothing. No variation in her voice. If anything I thought she sounded a little amused.

"She rubbed my butt. Then she hugged me and kissed me. On the lips."

"I hope you kissed her back," Dana chuckled.

"I'm serious! It was weird. She kept calling me Billy, and she was teasing me something fierce. She brought me lunch, and talked about the old days, doing some work for someone called the Destins. She said she was going to make me my favorite, her roast."

Dana wiggled a little, getting comfortable, pressing back against me. She pulled my hand up to her breast. "She seemed great tonight. The best in a while."

I couldn't disagree. "Yeah, I think it was the kids. When they came home, and she was cooking with them, she was back to normal. When I went into the kitchen, after changing out of my woodworking clothes, she called me Logan, and sent me out on an errand. Like nothing had happened."

"Nothing had happened, baby," she whispered. Her mischievous hand was between us, reaching for my cock. "It seems like it was good for her. You didn't try to remind her who you were or anything did you? You went along?"

I stifled a moan as her hand wrapped around my shaft, tugging softly. "No. She was too happy. I don't think I'd ever seen her in such a good mood, as she was in the workshop. I couldn't mess with that."

Dana turned and kissed me softly. Her hand was moving slowly, bringing me back to life. "Were you worried I'd get mad?" she asked.

"I kissed her, Dana. Twice. It wasn't a friendly kiss neither."

She giggled, and kissed me again. I was almost hard enough to do something about it. "Don't think twice about it. You would never cheat on me, Logan. I know that. You're not that stupid boy I met all those years ago."

"She touched me. There," I whispered, nodding down toward where her hand was working.

"So? She thought you were Grandpa. You made her happy. That's not a bad thing, Logan. Not at all." Dana rolled onto her back, her hand tugging my cock, encouraging me to climb over her. She guided me into her, and sighed. "God, I love you so much," she whispered.

I was quiet, slowly working my way into her, stroking smoothly, until she was taking my full length. "You're really not mad?" I asked, slowing down, kissing her neck, her shoulders.

"Never. Not with Grandma. You and I both know it for what it is. Her taking a stroll down her old memories, helpless to do anything about it. You trying to help, keep her happy. No, I'm not mad. Just don't get too crazy, OK? You'd probably break her hip if you got carried away." She giggled, wiggling her hips for me.

Then she dropped into a deeper drawl, sounding more like Grandma. "It's been too long, Billy. Way too long," she teased. "Do me, big guy. Nobody lays wood like you."

I almost laughed. I lifted her legs, tilting them back, and showed her that Grandpa wasn't the only one who could lay wood. "You're rotten, you know that?" I told her.

"And you're the best, Billy. Always. Fuck me, honey. Fuck me!"

I did, too caught up in it to talk anymore. I fucked her like my life depended on it, and she struggled to stay quiet, with the kids right next door. Afterward, she cuddled up to me, breathing hard. "Damn, that was good," she mumbled.

"The best. You're always the best, Dana."

We didn't mention Grandma anymore that night, although I can't deny I wondered if Grandpa got a reaction out of her like I did.

* * *

The next day, it was back to normal. Grandma was the same as she'd been, more confused than anything during the day, and at her best with the kids. I may have avoided her a little at first, still uncomfortable with the way things had gone. But once it was obvious she didn't know who I was, and didn't mistake me for anyone else, it was business as usual.

It was three days later, before we had a partial repeat. I'd finished up my workload early, and was waiting to hear the results of testing after integration. I was certain my code was clean, having self-tested it thoroughly.

I was nervous, putting on my woodworking duds, but shut those feelings down, and returned to the workshop. The chair I'd been working on needed some additional work. The glue had set, and I cleaned up any that had leaked. I did a little more sanding, running my hands over the clear grain, feeling for imperfections. When I was happy with the results, I searched through the stains, trying to imagine what Grandpa would have wanted.

This time, when Grandma came out to the shop, there were no surprises. I was kind of expecting her. She approached quietly, standing to one side, looking over my work. Grandpa's work to be honest.

"It's beautiful, Billy," she said. "You are the best you know. An artist. Nobody does half as good as you."

"Not half as beautiful as you, Dana," I answered.

She smiled, and her face lit up. "Is that my porch chair you promised me? That old one is due to be turned into firewood."

I guess it was no longer the Conroy's chair, and I couldn't think of a better use for it. "What color do you want it? Painted, or stained?"

She approached, touching the wood of the chair, before leaning into me, and putting her arm around my waist. "I'm terrible at this. What do you think?"

"I think that's a fib. You're better at this part than me. It's your chair, what do you want?"

She turned and kissed my shoulder, her hand sliding down and rubbing my ass again. "Stain. Nothing too dark. I want to see the wood, the grain, the knots. I want to be reminded of what it came from, plain wood, before you worked your magic. For me."

She lifted my arm, and slid around in front of me, her arms encircling my waist. "I love you, Billy. Thank you for my chair." Her eyes fairly glowed as she looked up into my face.

I put my arms around her, giving her a squeeze. "I love you, Dana."

She stood on tiptoe, her neck arching, her lips tilted up toward me. How could I deny her? I kissed her. I held her and kissed her, and felt her tongue run along my lips. It was undeniably sexy. Her body pressed against mine, and shamefully I responded. She pulled away after a few seconds, grinning.

"Can I sit in it?"

"Of course. It is yours, after all." I lifted it off the bench, and carried it out to the porch before putting it on the ground. I couldn't help but notice how the big fan blew her dress up teasingly as she passed it. She walked around the chair, running her hands over the wood, before settling in. She wiggled around a little before looking up at me. "It's perfect. What a surprise," she said with a grin.

Then she was up on her feet. "Try it."

I did, and had barely gotten seated before she was in my lap, giggling. Her arm went around my neck, and she pulled me back for a kiss. It was a long one, and her hands were mischievous, rubbing me, touching me. Her butt was wriggling, and I put my hand on her hip to hold her in place.

Then she was leaning against me, soft in my arms, talking about the business, the cabinets I needed to finish for the Simmons, getting the rest of the money out of the Andersons. She pulled my hand off of her hip, and startled me when she slipped it between her legs. Her little bit of a dress she'd worn for me was scooted up out of the way, and I was touching her panties. They were wet. How the hell was a seventy-something year old woman wet? I was curious, and rubbed her softly, feeling the moisture seep through the cotton material.

Her hand was misbehaving as well, rubbing my stiffness, casually, while she talked. She closed her eyes a couple of times, shifting her weight, pressing back against my teasing fingers.

Then she stopped, and took my face in her hands, kissing me fiercely. "Tonight, my handsome man. Everything."

I couldn't believe how worked up I felt. I wasn't thinking about my wife. I was imagining I was Grandpa, fifty years ago, with his beautiful horny wife in his lap, promising him the world.

Then she stiffened in my arms. I didn't know what was wrong, until she sat up, straightening her dress. "Poop!" she growled. "I bet that's Dan Simmons, come to check on his cabinets." She gave me a quick hard kiss, then climbed out of my lap. "I'm making my buttermilk fried chicken tonight. And double biscuits. Don't let Dan know you've been working on my chair, when you should be finishing his cabinets."

As she turned away, I could hear Roger calling out from inside the house. "Anyone home?"

She must have heard him pull up. I know I didn't. I was lost there for a bit, in a different time.

Grandma opened the sliding door, waltzing into the house, spry as a teen. "Dan Simmons," she said. "Billy's out back. Your cabinets are near done. I'm making my fried chicken. Care to stay for dinner?"

Roger took it in stride, with barely a ripple. "Not tonight, Dana. Thanks. I, uh, I'll check on Bill."

"The offer's open. Bring your pretty little bride along if you want, I don't imagine you can stay away from her that long anyway." I was watching as she walked up to him, rubbed her hand down his arm, and turned away with a giggle.

Damn. Grandma was a flirt. A big one.

Roger came out to the porch, where I had stood and picked up the chair to bring it back to the shop for staining. "Cabinets?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Grandma sometimes thinks I'm Grandpa, when I'm working in the shop. I guess he did some cabinets for a Dan Simmons. There's some cabinets in there, which I think got her thinking wrong."

"Well, she seemed to be in a great mood. And she's making her fried chicken? Nobody makes better fried chicken. I think I'm gonna call Caroline, and tell her we're eating over. You say she's done this before?"

"Just once. Maybe a week ago, when I was finishing the chair Grandpa was working on."

"It's good to see her happy. Maybe you should do some more work out here."

Roger was more than my father-in-law. He was probably my best friend. I couldn't keep secrets from him. "Dad, she thinks I'm Grandpa. She calls me Billy, and she acts, uh, really friendly."

The stunned looked on his face made me feel better. I wasn't alone in thinking this was odd.

"When you say really friendly ..."

"She kisses me. She's very touchy-feely. She was, well, talking ... talking about what we were going to do tonight. In bed."

Roger's eyes opened wide, and then he laughed. A big hearty laugh that, to be honest, irritated me. "It's not funny, Dad!"

His laughter diminished to mere chuckles. "It kind of is, you know? Not too surprising, everyone's noticed how much you look like him in the old pictures. I didn't know the old bird had it in her. You're going along, right?"

"I kind of have to. I don't want to upset her. She talks all about their work, their customers, her friends, it's like she's back to when they first started out. She thought you were a customer, for those cabinets," I said, with a nod toward the tarp covered objects.

Roger walked over and uncovered the partially completed cabinets. "You should finish these. They're beautiful."

Grandma chose that moment to come back to the garage, holding a pair of iced tea glasses. She offered one to Roger, and gave me the other, with a wink. Then she walked over to Roger, with a sway in her step, putting her hand on his arm. "What do you think? Everything he told you, right? My Billy does the best work around."

Roger didn't shy away from her flirtatious touch. "I was just telling him they were great. He should finish them."

Grandma pouted so cutely, I couldn't help picture her playing it up back then. "He promised he'd have them done and ready for installation a week from Tuesday. He'll get them done. It's no good rushing him." Grandma looked over at me and rolled her eyes. I almost burst out laughing.

Roger nodded. "I wasn't trying to rush him, I said—"

"You have my word, Dan. They're his top priority. He'll get them done, and they'll be worth every penny." She ran her hand along his arm, teasingly. Grandma was cracking me up. "Speaking of pennies, your second payment is due, and we could really use it to buy the hardware. I don't suppose you have the money on you, do you?"

"Uhm, how much was it again?"

Grandma stomped her foot. "Dan Simmons! I know you're not the kind of man to try to renegotiate halfway through the project."

"No, Dana," Roger said anxiously, reaching for his wallet. "I just forgot. I swear."

Grandma sighed. "Forty up front, forty more, due last Thursday, and eighty once they're installed. Anyone else would have made you pay at least half at the start. You know it's a good deal. Best dang cabinet work in the county, if not the state!"

Roger nodded. "Great work, I know. I'm sorry I'm late with the payment. I have it with me," he said, waving his wallet.

The grin on Grandma's face lit up the room. She took him by the arm, and started walking him to the house door. "Wonderful. Come in and I'll write you a receipt. We should let Billy get back to work," she said, looking back at me and giving a nod toward the cabinets. Then a grin and a wink.

I could see now that Grandma was a big part of Grandpa's success. She was a natural. As for me, I wasn't about to get stuck in the doghouse. I uncovered Grandpa's old work, and started sorting out the pieces, seeing how much he had finished, and what was left to complete.

When Grandma came back, several minutes later, I had one of the pieces on the bench. She was obviously in a great mood, giggling as she walked over to me. She moved up close and rubbed my chest when I turned toward her.

"I was naughty again, Billy. I hope you're nod mad."

Mad, no. Surprised? Hell, yeah! "How naughty, Dana?"

She gave me a fake pout, her eyes shining, as her hand traveled down my front, only stopping when she reached my zipper. "Just a little, honey. Not really bad. You know I'd never be real bad for anyone but you."

I was actually enjoying this. Seeing how Grandma used to be. I had no idea. I put my hands on her waist, and pulled her in close. "Tell me."

She giggled, her hand rubbing where she shouldn't. "I kissed him. I even let him touch my bottom."

Shit! Roger had kissed her! "And that's all?"

She nodded vigorously, grinning. "Forty bucks, cash money. And you've got an extra three days to finish the work. I made him give you the weekend. I did good, right honey?"

"You did great, Dana. You're the best."

She lowered her head, looking up at me through her eyelashes, pouting again. "You're not mad, are you? It was just a little kiss." Then she smiled. "Not like this."

Her arms were around my neck, her body pressed against mine, and she kissed me like her life depended on it. Holy crap! Grandma was a good kisser. When she finally pulled away I was stunned.

"I'm gonna go work on dinner. You need to get my chair done. Dan's stuff can wait." She grinned mischievously. "If we need extra time, I'm sure I can get us a few more days. You did order the hardware, right?"

I nodded.

"Good. Then get to it. And maybe tonight, I'll let you punish me for being a naughty girl again."

* * *

Dana was riding me, by far her favorite position, and she slapped my chest. "She didn't!"

I laughed, grabbing her hips and grinding into her. "Yep. Grandma's bad. She kissed Roger, or I should say 'Dan,' and earned us a few more days before I have to finish the cabinets. She even made him pay us forty dollars."

"Oh my God! Grandma!?"

I almost laughed, but Dana decided she'd been idle long enough, and started rocking back and forth on my cock, dragging a moan out of me. That put a smile on her face.

"You better not be thinking of Grandma," she said, and smacked me on the chest again.

"Be real, Dana. You're the love of my life. Shit, I'm probably the only man in America who after twelve years of marriage fantasizes about his wife."

She slowed down her rocking, taking her time. I could see her mind was elsewhere, but I didn't mind. Sometimes our loving was romantic, sometimes passionate. A lot of times it was just playful, like tonight. I was happy enough to have her riding me. This was one of those fun times, and teasing her about Grandma was turning out hilarious.

"You think he told Mom?" she asked.

"Probably. I'll talk to him. He thought it was funny that she was hitting on me. Let's see who's laughing now."

"This is so weird, Logan. She was in a great mood tonight, almost completely lucid."

"And her chicken was to die for. Damn, that woman can cook."

"Dammit! I know you're not thinking about Grandma, with that big cock up inside me."

I smacked her ass cheek pretty firmly, making her yelp. "Behave. You know you are the only woman for me. This thing with Grandma isn't my doing. Hell, you and Roger both were encouraging me."

Dana leaned over, her arms bracketing my head, her perfect titties swaying as she rocked back and forth, fucking me slowly. "I know," she said, gazing into my eyes. "And I love seeing her happy. But you have to admit it's weird. I mean, kissing Dad!"

I chuckled, reaching up and playing with her tits. "That's your problem? Roger?"

She blushed, and it was adorable. "She thinks she's married to you. But Dad? That's just wrong. And you said he touched her ass?"

"Grandma's a pretty woman, using her feminine wiles to help the business. She confessed immediately. She also made it clear she's been naughty before, and she wasn't the least bit regretful." I chuckled, tweaking my beautiful wife's nipples. "She did say I'd get to 'punish' her tonight for being naughty."

Dana glared at me, then started pounding down on my cock. I loved the way it made her tits shake. "I'm thinking you're the one that need to be punished," she said.

"Punish me, beautiful."

* * *

I loved my current project. Some projects are more critical than others, some time-lines more crucial. This was one of those projects where time was of the essence, and the company big enough to pay well. I'd been managing to keep up with my tasks and goals, and integration was going exceptionally well. I'd only had two minor issues to deal with. I was being paid to be on call, during integration and test. I understood that if my work had issues, I had to drop everything and deal with it until it was done. For the moment, as long as my code remained solid, my job was to check my emails each morning, join a daily progress conference call, and wait.