I first became fascinated by my grandfather’s balls after I’d caught a glimpse of them in the showers at the local pool, and I’ve loved them ever since. Big and heavy in their smooth, hairless low-hanging sack, I’d had to stop myself from reaching over and cradling them in my hand then and there.
His cock was also beautiful of course, not particularly large but with a look of fleshiness that sat well against the backdrop of his beautiful scrotum. He was circumcised, which seemed odd, as my father, brother and I all retained our foreskins, for which we were all extremely grateful. I admit to becoming vaguely fixated on the dark scar that ran around his shaft just below the bulbous knob, and fantasised about running my fingers around it to feel the slightly wrinkled skin, or maybe even tasting it with my tongue.
He had seemed unaware of my prurient interest at the time, which allowed me frequent opportunities to ogle him over the years, but looking back on it now I realise that not only did he recognise my interest, but discreetly encouraged it by providing plenty of opportunities for my burgeoning voyeurism. He certainly knew, before any other members of my family, that I was gay and had allowed me to enjoy his physicality as an unspoken signal that everything was okay. I loved him dearly.
It was not, however, until much later that I got my wish to cradle those heavy balls in my hand, and even later still to run my tongue around that fleshy scar. He had been a widower since I could remember, and memories of my somewhat stern grandmother were distant and none too fond; I seem to recall that she was forever telling him off for some perceived infraction, keeping him on a fairly tight leash. All of which he would take in his stride, passing me knowing looks in a conspiratorial way, making me an all too willing partner in his misbehaviour.
And then there was his shed. A riot of tools and wood and all manner of equipment, surrounded by works-in-progress and completed projects he was too pleased with to pass on or use; or which my grandmother wouldn’t let into the house. A wonderland to my young eyes, made doubly so by my grandmother’s refusal to go anywhere near it, recognising instinctively that it was his space and not to be intruded on.
I’d been away overseas for a few years after I finished trade school, jobbing myself around Europe and Asia, using the carpentry skills I’d developed to extend my stay anyplace I felt comfortable, until at last I knew that it was time to return home. I missed the family, and I knew that granddad wasn’t getting any younger, despite being hale and hearty and wonderfully handsome in my eyes. And I was still determined to hold those balls of his.
Which seemed a distinct possibility when I arrived at his cosy cottage on that warm summer’s afternoon, the heat just this side of oppressive. No answer at the front door but I was fairly certain I knew where he’d be. Wanting to surprise him I trod silently up the drive and through the back gate, making my way to the shed which sat at the very rear of the garden.
And there he was, stark naked and taking a piss under the lemon tree, shielded from prying eyes by the tall fence and the rickety structure. He hadn’t seen me yet and I stood just out of his sightline, enjoying the vision of the strong yellow flow gushing from his semi-erect cock, pooling in the grass at his feet. His balls, heavy and low, swung gently as he directed the stream in a carefree fashion, clearly enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his body and the hot water running through his cock.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked, keen to see how he would react to his grandson’s sudden appearance. He looked up casually, as if he wasn’t surprised at all, and smiled when he saw that it was me. He continued pissing.
“Come on in” he chuckled, “the water’s fine.” He waved his cock about, spreading his piss all over like a manic sprinkler, laughing like a schoolboy.
I could feel my cock stiffening in my jeans as I walked over and fumbled with the buttons, pulling it out and steadying myself as I willed my own flow to start, which it did after a short wait.
“Somebody’s pleased to see me!” he observed, smiling broadly at my nascent erection whilst our streams crossed and played with each other, finally giving out in heavy dribbles.
“Well, do you want to hold them or not?” He grinned lasciviously, looking down at his dick, and those beautiful balls. His cock twitched, as if prompting an answer. Mine hardened, returning an unequivocal reply.
“Hi Ted” I said, beaming at him uncontrollably, “yes please!”; we’d always called him Ted (never Grandpa!) ever since I could remember. I walked over to him, self-conscious about the erection sticking out of my pants but buoyed by the sight of his dick beginning to stiffen, bobbing happily and pointing at me.
Standing in front of him I could smell his scent, Old-Spice, sweat, and that vague muskiness that some men give off; testosterone I suppose. I looked down and took hold of his dick, warm and meaty in my hand, still wet with the last drops of piss, which moistened my fingers. I raised them to my lips and licked them clean, much to his amusement and surprise, making his cock dance even more.
“You’ve learnt a few tricks while you’ve been away” he observed, not disapprovingly. Reaching for my cock he pulled on my slightly retracted foreskin, enjoying its feel and malleability, working first one finger and then two inside to massage my slippery knob. Taking his cue from me he raised his fingers to his face, sniffing them first before putting them in his mouth to taste my sex. His cock bobbed and jerked even more.
It was at that moment that I decided the time had come. Reaching down I cupped his balls in my hand, their heaviness surprising me as I weighed them gently in my palm before kneading the smooth velvet of his scrotum. He moaned and gave me a mischievous smile I knew all too well. My hand closed around the top of his ball sack and I pulled, gently at first, feeling his flesh stretch and his balls tighten in their pouch.
“Is that good?” I asked, careful not to pull too hard.
“Hmmm, harder.”
I did as I was told, my hand now stretching his ball-sack with greater force, sliding down the smooth skin to hold his tender plums in a firm but cautious grip, pulling them as far as I dared. His breath was coming out in quick shallow gasps and I held his balls taut for a few more long seconds before releasing them and cradling them once again in my palm, lovingly and gently.
“I’ve wanted to do that all my life” I said as I looked into his smiling eyes.
“I know” he replied “and I’ve wanted to do this!” Reaching down he took my stiff prick in his hand, levelling it up head to head with his own before stretching my generous foreskin fully over my shaft and crown before covering his own bulbous knob, and a bit more besides. I tingled with the intimacy and stared in surprise and pleasure at our two cocks joined, my grandfather’s enveloped in mine.
He worked my skin like a virtuoso, massaging his own knob within it while stroking the underside of mine, sending waves of pleasure through my cock, down into my balls and out into my body. My legs began to tremble with whatever it was he was doing and I gasped, “fuuuuuuuck” as I could feel myself fast approaching orgasm.
The look in his eyes and the twitching of his body told me that he was in a similar state, and I felt his balls contract as he began pumping loads of his thick cum into my sheath, joined seconds later by my own ejaculation, filling my skin and seeping out of the stretched opening, running down his shaft and flooding his thick grey pubes.
“Fuuuuuck” we both carolled as our jizz flowed and merged, drenching our cocks and balls and running down our thighs, hanging like viscous stalactites in long, glistening ropes.
Heaving with the release I rested my head on his shoulder, happy to feel his arms circle around me, holding me tight. I have no idea how long we remained like that, but it felt good and I know that I didn’t want it to end.
He kissed my forehead and we straightened up, his softening cock slipping noisily from my foreskin, which we both laughed at. Looking down at the mess made us chuckle again, the grass beneath us glistening with drops of our jizz.
“Jesus Ted, where’d you learn that trick?” I gasped, as I slowly regained my equilibrium. He smiled, mischievously pulling on my slimey foreskin.
“Well” he drawled, “I promised your dad I wouldn’t say.”
