How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

~John~

My grandfather was an eminent benefactor.

His greatest joy came from giving, aiding wherever he could to make a difference in the world.

He dedicated untold sums of money, shaping lives around the globe by building orphanages, schools, and bolstering various foundations. However, his worldly contributions came at the cost of his presence at home.

Being his eldest grandson, I have only had a few face-to-face encounters with him over my 28 years of existence.

Yes, he financed my college education, my sister's, and indeed every other family member's educational pursuits. Yet, there were no letters, no birthday presents, no phone calls to check in. Consumed by his mission to save the world, he neglected his own family.

Admittedly, I harbor some resentment. Wouldn't anyone? How would it feel to hear and read about your grandfather's global benevolence more often than you see your own parents?

When we received the news of his passing, the executor of his estate contacted us, a mere day before the funeral. My entire family was informed that first-class tickets had been booked for us on the next flight.

At first, I was undecided about attending. More so, I believe, than the rest of my family. I had work commitments, bills to settle, and no vacation time to spare. After a few hours of contemplation, I decided to seize the opportunity. I couldn't refuse a first-class ticket and a visit to his estate, a place I'd heard so much about but never seen in ...

... person.

The flight was spectacular. It was my first taste of first-class luxury. Our clan occupied the entire front section of the plane. As we collected our luggage, a familiar face greeted us.

"Hey Frank!" I greeted the aged man, who was looking dapper in his Italian suit, complemented by a refined cobalt blue pocket square.

"Hey Kiddo," Frank responded, enveloping me in a comforting, familiar embrace. "How have you been?"

Frank was my grandfather's trusted confidant. I saw him far more frequently than I did my own grandfather. Frank personally handed over the tuition checks. He was the one who initiated my involvement in volunteer work during high school and college. He played the role of a grandfather more than my biological one ever did.

"I've been well," I answered. "Work's hectic, but I recently moved into a cozy city apartment. How about you?"

"Good to hear," Frank responded, his tone taking a melancholic turn. "Things have been tough here. But I'm glad you all could make it!"

"It's good to see you, Frank," I remarked, patting his shoulder as we moved towards the van waiting outside the airport.

"Are you still volunteering at the foundation in the city?" he asked. The foundation, a project of my grandfather's, aimed to battle homelessness in the city. I'd volunteered there during college.

It had been years since I last stepped foot in the place, but I didn't want Frank to know that. In his eyes, I was a responsible, upstanding youth. What he ...