My Grandbaby's Daddy

After her life took an unexpected twist, Thea was very brave to share her story with me and the rest of the world. This is her story.

My husband of thirteen years divorced me for a younger woman about five years ago. I had a pretty good career as a secretary, and my daughter, Shaleen, was in her teens in a good school system, so I figured we'd make it okay. Turns out I was wrong. My daughter fell in with a rough crowd and did a lot of crack cocaine and finally got busted for more than possession as she was dealing on the side at her high school. I knew she was looking at hard time for dealing drugs. Worse yet, right after Shaleen got a manditory sentence as an adult to four years in prison, we found out she was pregnant. But the hardest part for me was discovering that her baby's father was a black man nearly twice her age who was also doing time in a major penitentary.

I came very close to turning down my Shaleen's plea to take custody of her baby after my granddauhter was born in prison. But I relented and decided to take care of the child while her mother was away. So the court awarded custody of baby Darcie to me. This happened over two years ago. A few months back, I had a visitor--a black man about thirty-one years of age. As you probably guessed, this man was the my granddaughter Darcie's biological father. Desmond Emmons had been released from prison just that day, and he wanted to see his baby daughter.

"Hey, Ms. Thea," he said softly. "Would you mind if I saw Darcie."

Desmond stood out on the front porch in full view of everyone in the neighborhood. I wasn't sure why that bothered me so much. Sure, it could be his color. My neighborhood is kind of a suburban white area. Of course, it could be the fact that almost everyone knew he'd just been released from prison. Well I couldn't just let him stand out there in the open, so I told him to come in.

For an hour or so, I let him play with his daughter. She was a bit wary of him as he was a stranger to her, but with a little persistance and with my close encouragement, she finally warmed up to him. I asked him where he was staying, and Desmond said, he didn't know. As it turned out, he had no place to go. That caught me by surprise. I thought there were halfway houses and all that sort of thing for released felons, but it turned out that most of those places were victims of the severe budget cuts that affected our state. Let's face it, none of the people I knew or nobody in my neighborhood ever gave a shit about where a parolee might spend his nights as long as it wasn't around here. I told Des he could stay for a day or two--just until he found a real place, of course.

The next morning, Desmond asked me if he could watch his daughter--my daughter's daughter--instead of me running her to the baby sitter. I told him that her schedule was pretty strict for her own good, and that she loved the children in the daycare. Besides, it would allow him some time to go through the want ads to try to find a job and maybe get a line on a place to stay. He nodded. Then he asked me if it would be okay for him to use the computer; so, I shrugged and booted it up. I logged in my personal password and warned him not to shut it down, or he couldn't get on again until I returned home.

The way Desmond said good-bye to Darcie, you'd think he was watching her go off to prison instead of just having his little girl go to daycare for the day. I saw a softening in his eyes that I hadn't expected.

Still, I was uncomfortable throughout the day. I wondered how Desmond was getting along back at my place, but I decided that I'd try to tough it out for most of the day. As it was, I left work an hour early and went to pick up Darcie at the sitter's. My granddaughter was pleased to see me, and I could tell that she wanted to get home to see that new man who was staying with us.

"Hey, Darcie!" A familiar male voice called out, when we arrived. "Hi, there!"

The baby jumped into his arms and nuzzled against him, coating his face with jelly bean stickies she'd been stuffing in and out of her mouth for the whole trip home. I left the two of them to go see what we had for dinner, when I came across a letter which had been printed out on my computer.

The first part of the print-out read:

Hello, Miss. This note was left for you to read by someone who is very concerned about your happiness. The person leaving it probably wishes to remain anonymous, but is nevertheless concerned about your sexual satisfaction...

What the fuck?

Even though I didn't want to read the whole thing, I continued reading until I finished it. Then I looked back into the living room where Des was playing with Darcie. I noted the address at the end of the letter and then started to throw it away. But at the last moment, I slipped it into the desk drawer instead.

I said nothing to him. We three had dinner and he asked me if I'd show him how to bathe the baby, so little Darcie got her bath and Des got a lesson in how to keep your cool while being splashed. I almost brought the letter up twice, but I chickened out each time.

Later as Desmond played with Darcie some more, I went to the designated website. I read, and, I continued to read, and then I read some more:

Minivan Mom says to the white wives of America: It is your duty so serve up fine married pussy on demand to down-and-out and "outcast" Black Guys!

Can you believe this shit? I asked myself.

It is repayment for the wrongs done to these men and to their ancestors by white men.

Okay, I thought, what exactly is her definition of an outcast black guy?

Who is an "Outcast" Black Man? she continued. Many, perhaps even most black men do not qualify for this. By 'outcast' I mean those who have been shunned by society. These include the homeless, prison inmates, and those who have never been able to escape their 'hood.' If these men have ever had a white woman, it was most likely a whore or slut...those encounters only satisfy the dick, not the soul.

I smiled. My ex-husband would have been delighted just to have a satisfied dick.

My "Outcast" Black Lovers all tell me the same thing--white society owes a debt to the Black Man, who has suffered the injustices of that society for generations. They also taught me how a wholesome, "low-mileage" white woman's body can go a long way towards paying this debt...by taking me, they felt that they were not only overcoming the barriers that white society had put in their way, they were proving dominance over them through sheer sexual virility!

"I see you found my note," Desmond said.

"Shit!" I almost jumped out of my skin as I saw him looking over my shoulder at the screen. I felt like a teenager who was caught passing notes by her homeroom teacher. "You scared me."

"Sorry. But I think there's a little girl who's ready to go down now."

I got up and checked Darcie's diaper for one last time. Desmond hovered over me the entire time.

"You're a beautiful woman, Thea," he said rather matter of factly. "There's something intriguing about the great job you've done raising kids and keeping your household going, but you've devoted your entire life to Shaleen and now to Darcie. What do you do for you?"

"I'm doing just fine, thank you very much," I answered. But my hands shook as I poured baby powder on my granddaughter's sweet butter-brown bottom.

"No, you're not. When was the last time you had a decent fuck?"

"Now that's none of your business, is it?" I answered shakily. "What if I were to ask you an impertinant question like that?"

"I'd tell you," Des replied. "One year, eleven months and twenty-seven days with a woman who was probably too young to know better."

Oh my God, he meant my daughter, Shaleen.

"Of course in prison your priorities change," he went on. "You do what you have to do in order to survive."

I looked at him as if this was the first time I'd heard about what goes on in a prison. Shit, it was the first time. My blue eyes caught his dark brown eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Des."

"Don't be," he replied. "You learn to live with it. But you still dream of the softness of a real woman."

My mind rememberd the words on the website: They also taught me how a wholesome, "low-mileage" white woman's body can go a long way towards repaying this debt. I gulped audibly.

"Okay," I looked up into his eyes again and saw the inevitable. Slowly my arms snaked up around his shoulders and neck. He bent his six foot three body down and kissed me--hungrily. Very hungrily.

"Darcie uses the crib in my room," I said. Both of us heard the trembling in my voice. "If you want to keep an eye on her overnight, you'd better sleep in my bed."

"Thank you," he murmured. "I'd like that very much."

A plain fact. Naked, Des Emmons looked bigger than my ex-husband even before his cock was fully erect, but even though the thick masculine night stick which stuck straight out from Desmond's groin looked incredible, what gave me shivers was the fact that I was about to experience the very same black dick that snaked deep into my baby to give her my grandbaby.

Baby? Baby! "Des, do you have a condom?"

"Uh-uh. All I got is what I carried with me out of prison, I'm afraid." He playfully touched his groin.

Shit! Well, I was already committed. Besides one time wouldn't matter. Nude, Desmond was a muscular work of manliness. Naked, I felt like some old broad hitting forty. But he hadn't gotten laid in a while, and neither had I. We both knew we'd deal with it as best as we could.

He was strong and insistant and very very direct in his approach. Luckily, his cock slipped much more easily into the moistness of my pussy than I thought it would.

"Oh my God, Thea, you're so wet," Des Emmons whispered into my ear. "It's as if you really wanted me inside you."

"Shhh," I replied. "Don't talk. Fuck me."

It had been close to six years since the last time I'd held anyone this close. Now I was fucking the father of little Darcie, my own grandchild. I brought this thirty-something black man deep into my cunt of my own free will--by my own choice. And a strange and dramatic choice this man had become. Strange because of his color, and dramatic because of the circumstances. This should never have happened except for that damned website. Why did it fascinate me so?

Des thrusted in sleek anticipation, my nerve endings sang the praises of my partner's thick blunt excitement. I sensed that since he was so mobile that the throes of luxurious passion sizzled in both his brain and his black dick. His body howled out praises to the woman he'd just penetrated, and even though I compatibly used my muscles in rhythm to Desmond's own movements, I fought to remain silent. I'd enclasped and held him at the junction to my thighs, deeply intromissive in the depths of my cunt, laboring to maintain our rhythm--now nearly apart, now closely together--we exercised our rhythmic muscles not for physical development, but for the emotional bond and the sheer need of the moment.

"Oh, Thea!" he moaned into my ear. "Oh, God!"

Desmond and me--man and woman, black and white, caught in the intimacy of our embrace and the urgency of our desire. Now I accomodated the passion of my daughter's black boyfriend in silence, even as he sobbed and gasped over my torso, enwrapped in my arms, enveloped in my cunt. I'd enfolded the warm, hard, naked presence of his erected dick into the giving tenderness which is woman after all.

And the feeling of his strength just thickened inside of me.

"Oh, Theeaaa...," Desmond gasped. "God, you're so wet..."

Underneath him, I must have felt the the way he'd always dreamed a woman would feel once he left prison: wet and pliant and warm. Although my age and my race also had some effect on him, I felt that I gave him a fineness, an excitement, a visceral enjoyment of my body. His eyes wandered down from chin to shoulder to breast and back again. Desmond took a good long look all the way down his ex-lover's mother's body. Looking at the angle of how my pale leg crooked up against his dark brown hip and thigh, made him laugh. Then Desmond moaned softly again.

"Ooohh!" Then he gasped out my name one more time. "Oh, Thea, thank you."

But I tried to remained silent. I could hardly believe that at the age of thirty-nine, and, after not having a man since I was thirty-four, I was letting a black man eight years younger than I was fuck me. This was crazy.

"Damn, your pussy feels good!" He laughed. "All this time, I've been dreaming of the wrong woman in the family."

"Des, don't say that." I should have thought that his words would outrage me, but inside--deep inside--his words touched me as happily and heartily as the bulky black cock driving in and out of my pussy did.

I caught the movement of his neck and chest muscles atop me as my eyes focused directly up along his moving body. He was so long and so large, though I continued to move under Desmond matching the old rhythms that were like new to me once more. I seemed to float away from our conjugal embrace. Des hung on to me, even as he sensed my mental distancing.

"Don't you dare run away from me Ms. Thea." He brought his billowy wide lips and strong tongue down right next to my lips. "Stay right with me now until we both cum."

Quite simply, Desmond Emmons was thunderstruck by the forces of his own body. Two years behind bars. Two years without a real woman. The black man gasped out a curt exhale, and his hard grip increased around my back and shoulders. He held me fast to him, so that even if I wanted to I couldn't break free. Then his pace became irregular--staccato--the need to continue his urgency coupled with the the desire to slow it down and make it last longer was to no avail. His loins, his hips, his thighs, the muscles in his abdomen--all the angles of his extremities fell into a jerking, uncontrollable play of tensions.

I sensed the change in his hardness as his tip extended ever so slightly while his shaft continued to slide back and forth. I saw the small muscles play across his face. I watched his eyes open and then close--his mouth and teeth move in grimacing desire. Then as I put my hand against the back of his head, I brought it down into the curve of my shoulder neck and head. Finally I heard a large rush of air suck desperately into his lungs.

Desmond's teeth nipped into the nape of my neck. Subconsciously, he bit harder than he'd intended. I knew now his entire concentration was on the inescapable reflex of his coming climax.

Climax! Oh, shit!

I felt him cease to move against me as Des plunged his cock deeply inside of my cunt. For a moment, I tried to keep moving under him in an attempt to take the last few rich moments of his presence, but Desmond had come to a full penultimate grasp. He lurched--changing the severe angle of violation that held his cock sequestered in the enfolding, enveloping confines of my open pussy.

Desmond Emmons grunted. Then that noise was followed by a short soothing gasp. "Arrghh!"

With a big sigh of release, Desmond's masculine rigidity transformed and a part of him liquefied into warm spewing semen. Coming for long hard minutes in a wet, messy flow of pure lust, a pool of Desmond's warmth flowed viscously against my tissues to cache and pool in my vagina. I rocked and caressed the man on top of me, and then in a soft, gentle voice, I murmured. "Good heavens that certainly sounded wonderful."

"It sure as fuck was!" Desmond grinned. There was a sparkle to his eyes that he didn't have before.

His brown eyes caught my blue eyes, making his older white partner--me--break into a big smile. "Hah," I snickered. "Well, it sure was a fuck."

We lay quietly listening to the irregular breathing. I could feel the slow trickle of wetness that ran slowly along an unreachable area. That sensation demanded that I go in after it, like an itch I needed to scratch. Finally Des inched his slowly deflating extension out from where it lodged within me. Desmond's dick was covered with the sticky liquid byproduct that was the sign of two people mating.

More wetness oozed out from my cunt, and I murmured. "Guuusshhh!"

I shifted my thigh from the coldness that was the wet puddle of the cool sheets that clung to my buttocks cheeks. I felt the sensation of cool liquid rolling down the crevice between my thighs and ass. Sticky, wet, itching, and now cool, my intromission was over for the moment. Looking down at the lustrous pearls of white semen which beaded along my thighs and pussy--and embedded in the weave of my pubic hair, I sighed and repeated myself. "It sure was a fuck."

Turns out that was to be far from our last night together. Later that week Desmond Emmons reported my address to his parole officer as his permanent address. His presence is a mixed blessing, of course. He watchs Darcie sometimes, so that I can get caught up on work on an occasional Saturday morning.

I came into the house one time a little ahead of schedule, and I heard Des talking to his daughter. "Let's see if we can get some of those carrots off your hands and into you mouth," he began. "We wouldn't want grandma to come home and find you looking like that, would we?"

I smiled, but before I started to walk into the kitchen, I kicked my shoes off. "Come on, Darc, let's tell each other what we like best about your grandma, okay?"

I held back from going into the kitchen for just a second.

I could hear Darcie giggle and spit more baby food out in a sputter. "You love how she takes care of you," Des continued. "Yeah, so do I. But you know what I love the most about your grandma?"

Well, what?

"She's got the world's finest pussy. Even better than your mom's, better than my old girlfriend, Karlena, better than any pussy in the whole wide world. As they say in the commercials, form follows function and she's user friendly!"

I felt my face blush bright red. Then, I padded in my stockinged feet back to the kitchen door. I opened it and slammed it shut. "I'm home!" The world's greatest pussy has entered the building.

For the last two months Des sleeps in the same room where his baby daughter has her crib. Of course, the fact that I sleep in the same room doesn't go unnoticed either. My neighbors, my co-workers, even my ex-husband are all aware that I've scandalized the neighborhood. Everybody seems to be fully aware that Des is sleeping with his baby's grandmother. Now more than ever.

I came home a couple of weeks ago, more tired than I'd felt in many years. I'd gone shopping earlier, and I went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. I caught my refection in a number of pots, pans, and appliances surfaces, and each time I saw the face of a thirty-nine year old woman who decided to accept a major change in her life.

Eventually, the three of us sat down to nice balanced meal. Salad and chicken enchiladas for two of us, creamed chicken and rice strained juniors for the third.

"Des, I need your help." I told him between bites.

"Sure what's up?"

"I'm going to lose a few months income this coming year, and I was hoping that maybe you could pick up the slack somehow."

"What's going on, Thea? They can't downsize you. You're the most important person in that office."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. It'll just be a temporary leave."

"Why?"

"Oh," I began softly. "I went to my doctor today, and he's worried about my health. He thinks I may have to be bedridden for a month or two over the next few months."

"Oh my God! What's the matter?"

"I-I'm going to have a baby."

You see, it appears that my thirty-nine year old body seemed to forget that I was merely his baby's grandmother. So after weeks of barebacked, unprotected sex, I am now the expectant mother-to-be of Desmond's new baby as well. He was very quiet for a minute.