Grandpa's Girl

Wilfred Dewhurst was an old man. Not exactly ancient or ‘past it’, but undoubtedly he no longer had the vim and vigor of his more youthful years. Now in his early sixties, he sat on his sofa, newspaper in hand, sipping milky tea from an old battered mug adorned with the logo of his favorite football team. His recently deceased wife had got him the mug as a Christmas present many moons ago and it had always been his favorite. He sat in the living room, which was almost a tribute of sorts. Family heirlooms were scattered across the mantelpiece and in a glass fronted display case next to the windows, along with numerous pictures of his beloved Denise covering the walls. Their wedding photo, pictures of their honeymoon and countless holiday snaps with their daughter Melanie stared back at him as he drank his rapidly cooling brew, a constant reminder of what he had lost. Wilf and Denise had met in school and had been in love ever since their first date, a trip to the cinema and a walk while eating ice cream on the promenade. His heart pumped a little harder in his chest whenever he thought back to that magical moment, but six months on from her passing, Wilf was still devastated by the loss.

Newspapers from the past few weeks were stacked up on the arm of the sofa hazardously, at risk of toppling over any moment. Empty takeaway containers and lager cans were spread around the room, crisp crumbs crushed into the carpet, a surefire sign of the depression he was experiencing. Melanie had been helping him as much as she could, cleaning up after him when she came round, but with three children of her own, she couldn't be there all the time to take care of him. His heart felt empty and hollow, as much as he tried to put on a strong front for others, those who really knew him could tell he wasn't right.

Despite his age, he had always eaten well and been fairly fit, something he had been very proud of. Whether it be playing football and running about with the grandkids, going hiking or playing bowls with his mates, he'd always been active, but not since she had gone. A small gut was starting to form, something he’d been ignoring, but deep down, he knew he would have to make some changes if he wanted to get back to how he had been. There just didn’t seem to be any point in staying in shape, it seemed trivial and unimportant. Denise had always said he was a handsome man and as he glanced in the mirror above the mantelpiece, he could still make out the details that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.

His usually perfectly maintained short gray hair had grown out, making him look a little unkempt, but in a sexy, bad boy kind of a way, or at least he thought so. His jawline was strong and masculine, which many people had commented on over the years. His warm, brown eyes conveyed a sense of safety and comfort, with just a hint of danger hiding behind them, if you looked deep enough. His broad shoulders and muscular arms were still strong and welcoming, although they felt empty without Denise to hold in them. His frame was large, standing at six foot six, many initially found him quite intimidating, but over time they would come to realize that his size didn’t reflect the man on the inside. Many women had thrown themselves at him over the years, but he had always been faithful to Denise, and she always seemed to enjoy knowing that her man was seen as being so desirable.

They had enjoyed an amazing sex life over their many years together, cemented by the intense love they had for one another. As much as he missed her presence, her laugh, her smile, the way she would interlock pinkies with him when they walked, he missed her body and the physical connection between them the most. Those moments of complete intimacy and trust, when their mind, body and soul were connected in a way that made the heavens open and their hearts sing. He'd gone months after her passing without any kind of release, almost feeling guilty at the idea of indulging himself without her there to share in the pleasure.

Finally, the built up sexual frustration had been too much and he had sunk into a deep hole of masturbation to try and mask some of the pain. It had gotten to the point where he was pleasing himself out of boredom and sadness rather than genuine arousal. He desperately wanted to feel that closeness with another human again, but he couldn't imagine being with anyone other than Denise. This had been part of the reason for his downward spiral as he found himself staying at home more, rarely leaving the house, even when family and friends tried to encourage him to do so.

Pulling himself up from the sofa, he placed down the freshly finished paper atop the pile of discarded news, a reminder of the world moving forwards while he remained stuck in place. Making his way into the kitchen with his mug in hand he placed it down in the sink atop a pile of dirty pots from the past few days, leaning against the counter and looking out of the window. The garden was horribly overgrown, another reminder of how he, in his mind, had let Denise down. She had loved their garden, spending every summer out there, pruning, mowing the glass, watering the flowers. He could almost picture her in his mind's eye, a light summer dress wafting in the breeze as she looked over to the kitchen window, smiling warmly at him.

Wilfs daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of keys being pushed into his front door. “Dad?” came the voice of his daughter from the hallway. Based on the time of morning, she'd probably just finished the school run and was coming to check up on him.

“In the kitchen, sweetie,” Wilf replied raspily. His throat was dry as he realized they were the first words he'd uttered since waking up in his now half empty marital bed earlier that morning. He heard her footsteps getting closer, until her head popped through the kitchen doorway, a wide smile on her face. She looked so much like his mother that whenever he saw her it broke his heart a little, but of course he'd never tell her that.

“Hi Buttercup,” he said, smiling warmly at her as she walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him, holding each other in a tight embrace. Her head barely reached his chest and he gently stroked her hair, her scent wafting up to his nose. She even smelled like Denise, causing another pang of sadness to run through his body. “How are you?” He asked as they loosened their hug.

“Good thanks, but Lacey was being a nightmare this morning, wouldn't get dressed or brush her teeth or anything. I was chasing after her all morning.”

“Ah, I remember many mornings like that when you were little,” Wilf said, smiling at the pleasant memories. “She gets it from her mother.”

“Nonsense,” Melanie replied, “I was a perfect little angel and I still am.” She looked at him, flashing him a cheeky smile and a wink. She had always been a daddy's girl and knew exactly how to wrap him around her finger. It would be annoying if he still didn't see her as his adorable little girl.

“Ah of course, I'm sorry sweetie,” Wilf replied jokingly, “I must be getting forgetful in my own age.”

“Apparently so, you certainly seem to have forgotten to do the washing up,” Melanie replied with a raised eyebrow as she gestured towards the sink.

“You’ve got me there,” Wilf replied sheepishly.

“And based on the number of beer cans in the living room, I’d assume you’ve barely been off the sofa?”

Wilf’s head dropped, not needing to reply as his answer was already obvious. “I’m sorry Melanie,” he replied shakily, “It’s just still really hard.”

She took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “I know it is Dad, but Mum would hate to see you like this. She’d want you to keep on living, for her.” Tears were welling up in her eyes as she spoke, but she wiped them away before they could fall.

“I know she would, I’m really trying, I promise buttercup.” They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the ticking of the clock hanging above the back door and the sound of a dog barking in the distance.

“Actually, I have some good news!” Melanie said in an excited tone.

“Oh? What’s that? Did Tommy get selected for the school football team?” Wilf asked, a hopeful inflection in his voice. Wilf and Tommy had been kicking a football around since he was old enough to walk and lately it had been a big goal of his youngest grandchild to be picked for the starting eleven.

“No, not yet, but he’s still training really hard.”

“Good lad,” Wilf replied, a proud smile spreading on his face, “so what's the good news then?”

“You remember I told you about my friend Sharon? Her kids go to the same school as Tommy.”

“Oh yeah, I think so, she has a little boy in his class?” Wilf replied as he started to fill the kettle up from the tap, struggling to make room amongst all the messy plates, pans and cutlery that filled it.

“Yeah, that's right Dad, Darren is his name. Him and Tommy have gotten really close over the past few months and they’re on the team together.”

“Ah, that’s right, now I remember. You want a brew?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Melanie replied, opening the cupboard to take out a couple of clean mugs, putting them down on the side as the kettle started to boil. “Well, her older daughter, Sophie, decided to take a gap year before going to University.”

“Oh right,” Wilf replied as he dropped a tea bag into each mug, unsure what this had to do with good news, but he continued to listen to his daughter.

“Sharon told me that she’s looking to make some money over the summer to help fund her studies.”

“Smart girl,” Wilf replied as he took a bottle of milk from the fridge. Unscrewing the cap, he took a sniff, “still seems good.” He placed the bottle down on the side and faced his daughter. “So what’s she going to do?”

“Well, that's where you come in Dad. I suggested that she could do some cleaning for you? You don’t have to worry about paying her, I’ll sort that out, but I thought it would be easier than me trying to do it for you. Having the place a little tidier might help you feel better mentally, maybe help you get out of this rut you’ve been in.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “So, what do you think?”

Wilfred thought for a moment. It was a little hurtful that Melanie thought he was at the point that he needed extra help, although on the other hand, he hadn’t been taking very good care of himself, or his home for the past few months. Maybe it would be a good thing, for him and for the young lass too. “Okay, sure, that sounds good,” he replied as the kettle finished boiling.

“That’s great,” Melanie answered, “especially as I already told her she could do it. She’s coming over this afternoon to make a start. I told her it would probably take a couple of days to get the place into proper shape, then she can come out once a week to keep on top of it.”

“You are such a cheeky girl, I never even had a choice!” Wilf chuckled, “I should have known, you’re just like your mother.” They both shared a sad glance at each other before he poured them each a cup of tea, straining the tea bags before depositing them in the bin. Once he’d added milk for them both, he passed the steaming hot mug to Melanie. They made their way into the living room and Wilf cleared some of the discarded papers and cans out of the way so that Melanie could sit down.

“So, how old is this Sophie?” Wilfred asked, realizing it would be the first time he had a stranger in the house in a very long time.

“Nineteen,” Melanie responded, “I’ve met her a few times, she’s a sweet girl, really into her studies, very intelligent, I think you guys will get along well.”

“I certainly hope so,” Wilf answered. “Thank you for doing this for me Melanie. I know I can be stubborn when it comes to accepting help at times, but I really appreciate it.” He reached out his hand to take hers as they both sipped from their mugs. When she was around, the pain was always a little less and he was glad of her company, even if it would only be for a little while.

They talked for around an hour, about the grandkids, Melanie’s husband, and life in general before she offered to fix them some lunch. Wilf watched some TV for a little while before Melanie returned with some toasties for them. The fridge was virtually empty and so she hadn’t been given a lot to work with, but you can’t go wrong with a nice ham and cheese toastie. At least, that's what Melanie said when she entered the living room carrying the plates. They both ate together before Melanie said her goodbyes. She had numerous errands to do before picking up the kids from school later that afternoon and she gave Wilf another big hug on the doorstep. Checking her watch, she reminded her father, “Sophie should be here in an hour, so make sure you’re decent and let me know if there’s any problems, okay?”

“Sure buttercup, I will,” Wilf said, smiling warmly at her as she walked down the garden path, opened the metal gate and got into her car, waving to him as she pulled away. Heading back inside, Wilf made his way up to the bathroom. It had been a couple of days since he had showered and he didn’t want to make a bad impression on Sophie when she first arrived. The discarded booze containers and general state of the house would be bad enough, without him being stinky and disheveled as well.

He brushed his teeth and shaved the five o clock shadow that had been slowly growing in over the past couple of days, before turning on the showerhead and stepping inside. Even doing this simple exercise, he couldn’t put Denise out of his mind, remembering the mornings when they had gotten ready together side-by-side, the first time they had shared the small shower and even when they had gotten frisky in there together after the kids had all flown the nest. Before he knew it, his cock was rock hard. At just over 6 inches long, with a thick base that slightly narrowed as it neared his tip, he had always thought he had a nice penis, something Denise had emphatically agreed with. He smiled to himself remembering how she used to refer to it as her own ‘personal lovestick.’ He was tempted to play with himself there and then under the cascading hot water, but knew he didn’t have much time until the young lady would arrive and he didn’t want to be caught half naked, still wrapped in a towel when she got there.

Resisting the urge, he finished up in the shower stepping outside and grabbing a towel to dry himself off before combing his hair into a slick side parting. Heading back to his bedroom, he took a moment to look at the picture of Denise sitting on his night stand before he started to talk to her. He’d never been the type to talk to himself, but ever since losing her, he had found himself doing this most days, talking to her picture like she could hear him.

“Hi my love,” he started as he opened the cupboard to pick out some clothes, “there’s a young lady coming over shortly to help clean the place.” He picked out a black polo top, pulling it over his head before spraying himself with some aftershave. “It was Melanie’s idea, she’s still doing her best to take care of me. She’s a good daughter.” He pulled on a pair of underwear before sitting on their marital bed to pull on his socks. Even though he knew it wasn’t the case, sometimes it really did feel like he was having a conversation with her, beyond the grave. “Don’t be silly darling, you don’t have anything to be jealous of! She’s nineteen, hardly going to be interested in an old codger like me!” He laughed heartily. “Besides, you know you’re the only girl for me.” He picked up the photo frame and gave it a kiss before finishing getting ready, completing his ensemble with a pair of comfortable black jeans. Checking his watch, he realized that Sophie would be arriving soon,so he said goodbye to his wife's picture and promised to let her know how it went later in the day.

Just as he was standing up to head downstairs, he heard a knock at the door. That must be her. Making his way down the stairs, he could make out the outline of the young woman through the translucent glass of the front door. By the looks of it she had brown hair, with some kind of white top and was clearly very short, maybe a foot, or a foot and a half smaller than Wilf. Turning the key in the lock, he swung open the door with a warm smile. Looking up at him, Sophie recoiled slightly, a reaction that Wilfred was all too familiar with after his numerous years of being a gentle giant. Most people didn’t mean anything by it, but he was an unusually large man, so it made sense that people were a little surprised when they first met him.

“You must be Sophie,” Wilf said warmly, extending his hand to try and alleviate any concern she might have. “My daughter told me all about you, I’m Wilfred, but you can call me Wilf if you like.”

Sophie took his hand gently, shaking it a little timidly. They both took a moment to take each other in. Sophie was certainly cute, a little on the chubby side, but in a way that made her appear curvy and soft in a very feminine way. Her brown hair was tied up in a loose bun and she wore glasses with a thick brown frame that certainly gave off bookworm vibes. She was wearing a plain white blouse with a couple of buttons undone at the neck, showing off some skin, but not enough to expose any cleavage. A pair of tatty joggers, covered in a few flecks of paint were clearly chosen so that she wouldn’t get her good clothes messy while doing the task she had come for. There was a huge size difference between the two of them, her head barely reaching much above Wilfred’s belly button, so it was hardly surprising that she was a little intimidated.

“It's nice to meet you too Wilf, thank you for agreeing to let me do this, it's really going to help me out with my schoolwork,” she said, trying her best to shake off her initial reaction. She had been anticipating some frail, elderly old chap, not this man mountain that she had been greeted with. She also couldn’t help thinking that he was more handsome than she had expected and as the scent of his aftershave wafted to her nostrils, she realized he smelt great too.

“No problem at all,” Wilf replied as an awkward silence hung in the air. “Come in, come in,” Wilf exclaimed warmly, leading the young woman inside and closing the door behind him. He considered for a second whether to lock the door. Probably best not to, just in case she was still a little uncertain of this whole arrangement. For all she knew, he could be a creepy old bastard with ulterior motives for having a young woman in his house. Making their way to the living room, Wilf apologized for the mess that was still scattered around the place.

“It’s okay,” Sophie replied reassuringly, “My mum told me about your situation. I’m sorry for your loss Wilf.” She smiled warmly at him, a genuine smile that helped put him at ease a little.

“Thank you Sophie,” he replied, “It’s been a few months since Denise passed, but it's still very difficult for me, you know?”

Sophie nodded her understanding before silence once again hung in the air.

“So, where should I start?” Sophie asked, “Melanie mentioned that I might need to come out for a couple of days to get everything in shape?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, it's been a while since I’ve properly cleaned the place.” Wilf thought for a second. “How about you take upstairs for today and I’ll clean up some of the stuff down here?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s what I’m here for”

“I’d like to,” Wilf replied sincerely, “I think it would be good for me, otherwise I’ll just end up sitting here watching TV all afternoon.”

Sophie smiled warmly at him, “okay, that sounds like a plan, I’ll make a start in the bathroom and then give everything a good dusting and hoovering and I can come back tomorrow to do downstairs.” Happy with the arrangement, Wilf told her where she could find all the cleaning stuff and Sophie made her way upstairs to get to work. Wilf retrieved a bin bag so he could start clearing up the assorted newspapers, lager cans and takeaway containers scattered around the living room, already starting to feel a little better now that he was being proactive, rather than wallowing in self-pity.

Upon entering the bathroom Sophie was pleased to see that it wasn’t as bad as she had been expecting, giving the shower and sink a thorough cleaning, before wiping down all the surfaces with a wet cloth. Finally she mopped the tile floor, standing in the doorway to admire her work. The place was sparkling and while she had started to sweat from the exertion, she made her way into the hall to start hoovering. The money for this cleaning gig would be good and by the time the summer ended, she should have a nice little kitty of cash built up to help her when she went off to University. It also helped that Wilf’s situation was so sympathetic. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like losing a partner that you had spent most of your life with. It was hardly surprising that he hadn’t bothered with such a mundane task as cleaning when there was such a gaping hole left in his life.

Downstairs, Wilf had cleared all the detritus from the living room, turning his attention to the kitchen and the massive pile of dirty crockery he had accumulated in the past week. Opening the cupboard under the sink, he pulled out a pair of yellow gloves to protect his hands, smiling to himself as he remembered all the times he had watched Denise washing up in these exact same gloves. Taking a deep breath, he got to work, filling the sink with hot water and soap as he scrubbed down each individual item, before placing it on the draining board.

Sophie had finished the landing, pulling the hoover towards Wilfred’s bedroom door. She hesitated for a second. This was her first job, of any kind. She wasn’t a professional cleaner and she’d never been given access to someone's personal space like this. She realized that she was about to enter the room where Wilfred dressed, slept and presumably, made love to his now deceased wife. This was certainly a big responsibility to be given and she had that in mind as she pushed the door open.

The bed frame was old and made of polished oak, with a large, comfy looking mattress atop it. The covers were spread messily over the bed and she set about straightening them up, plumping up the pillows and making it look neat and tidy. As she finished, she looked over at the picture of Denise on the bedside table. Glancing over at the door to make sure she was alone, she picked the picture up and took a good look at it. It felt strange, looking at a woman that she had never met, and now, never would. She was pretty, very pretty, there was no doubting that. Her and Wilfred must have made a very handsome couple. Her eyes darted to the bed and for a second she pictured the two of them under the covers, engaged in passionate sex, before pushing the thought from her mind. As she turned the frame, the sunlight caught the glass, showing a stain on her face, a stain in the shape of a pair of lips.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly sad for Wilf. He must feel so alone, so helpless without the woman he so clearly loved with every fiber of his being. Putting the picture back in its place, she plugged in and fired up the vacuum cleaner, getting to work on the carpet. It had clearly been a while since anyone had cleaned in here and the hoover bag quickly filled up with dust. After emptying it out, she returned to her task, sliding the head of the hoover under the bed when she heard it hit something, giving off a loud, metallic clang, piquing her curiosity as she put the appliance down, getting down on all fours to investigate.

It was dark under the bed and her eyes took a moment to adjust to the lack of light, but when it finally did, she saw what she had accidentally struck. It was a large, black metal box with a wooden handle on the top, secured with four large, sturdy metal latches. She knew that she shouldn’t look any further, that she would be invading Wilfred’s privacy, but something about it compelled her. She reached under the bed, grasping the cold metal edges with her fingertips and pulling it out into the light. Running her hands along the top of the box, she could tell it was old, paint chipped away in certain areas, the handle worn as if it had been used many, many times. She looked around the room to make sure she wasn’t being watched before taking a deep breath and snapping open the latches, lifting the lid.

Her jaw dropped, breath catching in her throat as her eyes darted across the contents of what was inside. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. In the top right corner were three clear plastic bottles, each with a strip of tape on them, with handwriting on each so you could differentiate their contents. ‘Lube.’ ‘Baby Oil.’ ‘Numbing Cream.’ Below the bottles were a selection of sex toys, a flesh colored dildo, a clear glass butt plug, a vibrator, handcuffs, paddles, ball gags, and countless more items that she didn’t even recognize. To the left was a separate compartment full of various garments, from what she could see there was a nurse's outfit, a schoolgirl’s skirt, a nuns veil, a latex bodysuit, and much, much more, hidden within the depths of the metal container. She was completely flabbergasted at what she had found, heart pounding in her ears as it dawned on her that she had stumbled across something she wasn’t meant to see. That no-one was meant to see.

Something about this whole bizarre situation had flicked a switch inside her. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but she could feel arousal building inside her as she continued to stare into the box of debauchery. Reaching out, she took the dildo in her hands, picking it up and bringing it closer to her face. She had only ever seen one real cock in her life and this was much bigger than that one, it must have been at least eight inches long. She ran her fingertips along the shaft, feeling the molded veins against her skin as her crotch began to slowly dampen with excitement. Wrapping her hand around the tip, she wondered what it would feel like to push it inside her. Would it hurt? Would it feel good? Would Wilf find her on his bedroom floor, his toy buried deep inside her as she moaned? The thought only turned her on even more. She slipped a hand into her joggers and lazily traced her finger along her slit through her panties. She shuddered gently as goosebumps began to form on her skin. She knew this was dangerous, and stupid, but that was part of what made it feel so good as her digits applied more pressure to her needy pussy. A soft moan escaped her lips as she wondered how the plastic phallus would feel inside her mouth. Did she really dare to taste it?

Before she could find out one way or the other, the bedroom door suddenly swung open as Wilf stepped inside, his approach muffled by the carpeted landing and his bare feet. “Hey Sophie, I thought I’d bring you a glass…” Her body froze, adrenaline spiking as her head snapped round to look at her elderly client. He was staring at her, kneeling on the floor, box open, dildo in one hand, the other buried in her crotch, face flushed red with arousal. Time stood still for a second as their eyes met, neither able to breathe as they tried to process what was happening. Fear spread through Sophie’s body like a wildfire as she watched the glass of water he had been carrying slip from his fingers and drop to the carpet, sending liquid flying across the room and onto her chest as a look of shock and embarrassment spread across his face.

She had been caught in the act. There was no denying what she was doing in the bedroom of an elderly man that she had only just met and as she felt the water soak into her blouse, she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were small, so she usually didn't bother with one, but as she felt the cold water making her nipples harden and push against the fabric, she wished she had decided to wear one today. She had never felt so exposed, so guilty, and so embarrassed in her entire life. How was she possibly going to get out of this?