The Groom's Grandpa: Blonde Beauty's Wrinkly Romp At Wedding

"All of Rebecca's book are fun to read. She hits the spot every time" - Fleetwood, Amazon reviewer
"Rebecca Ryatt puts you in the story. Once I started I didn't want to put it down. She's that good" - Richard Reeves, Amazon

Jodie Kerwin is 23 and stunningly beautiful. And when she is invited to her aunt's wedding, the least she was hoping for was to make out with a handsome man. But there is a distinct lack of them at the event. And it seems that most male guests are giving Jodie a wide berth, only eyeing her from a distance - they clearly regard her as too beautiful and way out of their leagues. So when the groom's 80-year-old grandfather, Cecil, asks her to dance, Jodie feels quite happy to oblige. But an innocent waltz rapidly turns into something far more intimate when Jodie takes pity on the elderly man after learning he has recently been widowed, and when some lads make fun of him...

WARNING
Please be aware that this story is only suitable for adult readers. It features descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults, aged over 18. If you enjoy stories about relationships between old men and younger women, you will love The Groom's Grandpa.

EXTRACT
The old man took her in hold. He was very respectful, not pressing himself against her at all; not even ogling her boobs, now, which were virtually level with his eyes. He looked up at her gorgeous face and smiled kindly as he led her around the dance floor. He was quite a decent dancer. His efforts were far superior to the drunken stumbling that was going on around them.
“You are such a lovely young lady,” he said. “Might I ask your name?”
“I’m Jodie,” she said. “I’m Megan’s niece.”
His face lit up. “Well, well, I’m Cecil, and I’m Peter’s grandfather.”
“Really?” she said, perking up.
“Indeed. How very perfect. We are related by marriage, now.”
“Yes, I suppose we are.”
“We should be friends, then, you and I.”
“Okay,” she said, not really expecting to see Cecil again.
“Did you come on your own, not with a boyfriend?” he asked.
“With my family. What about you, Cecil?”
“I’m a widower. My wife died three months ago.”
A wave of sadness for the old man swept Jodie. “Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“Yes, very sad. We’d been together nearly 60 years. She died just before my 80th birthday.”
Jodie couldn’t imagine being with someone for so long – 60 years with the same person; she admired Cecil and his poor wife.
“You must miss her,” she said.
“Well, I do. The company. The cuddles, you know.” He smiled. “You do get terribly lonely, especially after spending so much time with someone.”
Jodie saw sadness in the old man’s eyes. She felt an overwhelming need to comfort him. She wanted to pull him close, press him to her breasts, and tell him that everything would be all right. But she tempered that desire. It was only to comfort him, she told herself. But a strange quiver had started to flow through her body. Suddenly she felt quite flushed. But she carried on dancing with Cecil. She couldn’t stop now; it would surely make him sadder still.
“I must say, you smell adorable, Jodie,” he said.
“Oh, thank you.”
“And, well, you are truly beautiful. I can’t believe you are single. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to be with you?”
“That’s ever so sweet of you. Actually, I’ve just broken up with my boyfriend.”
“It is his loss, my dear.”