Granmas Poosie

Note: Some of the earlier incidents of this story are covered in Ulyssa's version of my story. I wish to thank her for kindly proofreading this story for me and for offering some valuable assistance. Portions of this story are used with Ulyssa's permission. TCD

"Hey, Mrs D," one of the company receptionists buzzed me. "There's a call for you. The lady says she's your neighbor."

It turned out to be Joan from across the street. "Thea! You've got one of

those people

on your front porch. A man this time"

I knew exactly what she meant by "those people."

"Is there anything wrong, Joan?"

"Other than the fact that he's ruining the value of my house, nooo! I was expecting some members of the garden club this afternoon."

"So tell them he's the lawn guy."

"Thea," she whined. "You've got to get rid of him."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, all right," I said. "But it'll take me at least half an hour to get home."

My husband of thirteen years divorced me for a younger woman about seven or eight 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. We all knew she was looking at hard time for dealing drugs. Worse yet, after Shaleen received the manditory sentence as an adult to a minimum of 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 have to admit I came very close to turning down my daughter's plea to take custody of her mixed-race baby after my granddaughter was born in prison, but I decided to take care of her while her mother was away. So the court awarded custody of baby Darcie to me. This happened about two years ago. I figured this visitor must be one of my granddaughter's relatives from her father's side who'd dropped by unannounced. Every so often they'll stop by to see her. But usually they'll call me first, so they're not left malingering outside the house in full view of the neighborhood.

When I got back, I saw my visitor--a black man possibly thirty years of age. My jaw dropped. This man was Darcie's biological father. Desmond Emmons had been released from prison just that day, and he'd taken a bus into town, and then walked eleven miles to see his baby daughter.

"Hey, Miz Thea," he said softly as I got out of the car. "Would you mind if I see Darcie."

Desmond stood out on the front porch in full view of everyone in the neighborhood. I wasn't sure why that bothered everyone else so much. Sure, it probably was his color. My neighborhood back then was unofficially a whites only suburban area. Of course, it also could have been the fact that almost everyone who knew me would know that he'd just been released from prison. Well I couldn't just let him stand out there in the open, so I pulled Darcie out from her car seat and told him to come in.

For an hour or so, I let him play with his daughter. She was a bit frightened of him as he was a stranger to her, but with a little persistance, my close encouragement, and Desmond's natural charm, Darcie finally warmed up to him. I asked him where he was staying, and Des Emmons 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 area. 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. So, 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 himself 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 of the eyes that I hadn't expected from him.

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 funny man who was staying with us.

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

The baby jumped into his arms and nuzzled against him, coating his face with jelly bean stickies that 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? Where did this come from?

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 changed my mind and 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:

"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. One by one I'd been clicking on the gangbang thumbs. 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. Desmond hovered close to 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 we both could see my hands shake 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," I answered huffily. "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."

"We shouldn't be having this conversation."

"This is exactly the sort of thing we should be talking about. After all there's nobody more important in this little girl's life than the woman acting as her mother and the father she never knew."

"Does that mean you're going to be around in her life? To stay? To look after her day in and day out?"

"That's what I want more than anything," he said softly. "That litle girl is probably the most important person in my life right now."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it. I want to be here for her. I want to be here for you."

I looked up into his eyes again, and suddenly realized that I'd seen the inevitable. Slowly his arms snaked down around my shoulders and back. He bent his six foot three body down and kissed me--hungrily. Very hungrily. I brought my own arms up around his neck.

"Darcie has a crib in my room," I whispered. 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, but tell me you're not going to do something silly like sleep on the couch."

I smiled and shook my head.

Things happened very fast that night.

I laid down on my back, all the while he lifted my hips from the bed so that Desmond could tug at my pajama bottoms and panties, pulling them away from my hips and buttocks, down past my thighs, calves and ankles, and finally totally free from my lower extremities.

"Oh, God, Thea," he murmured. "You're beautiful."

I blushed. "Listen to me, Darcie still needs a few more minutes to settle in for the night. But I want to see what you look like too--only very slowly."

Des Emmons unbuttoned his shirt, spun around and then pulled his shirt free from his pants in a provocative move. He turned back around and showed me his deep, mahogany au-naturale tanned chest, and I let my breath slip out in an unexpected sigh.

Des's eyes lit up when he heard my tiny gasp loosed from my vocal cords. In a slow smooth move, he undid the clasp and zipper of his pants. My eyes must have lit up, because he waved his forefinger back and forth and cautioned me: "No, no! Not yet."

With a lot less finesse, Desmond got out of his shoes and socks. Then he dropped his pants totally down to the floor and stepped away from them. All Des had left were a pair of state issued stretch briefs which could hardly contain the enduring outline of his straining erection. I know my own breathing had become more erratic.

"Don't worry," he said. "I can still keep up the pace of our enjoyment."

"How?" I asked.

"I'll show you." Suddenly pushing my top leg high into a bent knee position, Des opened up my crotch to the open air--from the rear end. A tentative finger stroked the soft tissue of my labia and I jumped.

"Oh!"

"Ssshhh!" he hissed. "Don't disturb the baby."

Des sucked on his index finger for a minute and then applied it to the same tender lips, and I moaned softly again. This lasted only a moment or two when the tip of his finger was replaced by the edge of his tongue. This time I thought I would shed my skin in a single shuddering moment.

"Desmond!"

Little Darcie let out a tiny moan.

A plain fact. Des Emmons looked bigger than my ex-husband even before his cock was fully erect, but the thick piece of masculine beef-loin which stuck straight out from Desmond's groin was so immense that I could hardly believe 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."

Shit! Well, I was already committed. Besides one time wouldn't matter. Naked, Des was a muscular work of manliness. He was strong and insistant and very very direct in his approach.

What do they say?

It's like riding a bicycle?

It's definitely not! We were both rather clumsey coming together--him after two years, and me after six.

Luckily, his cock slipped much more easily into the slick 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, just fuck."

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. Why did this man 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 dick. His body howled out electric praises to the woman he'd just penetrated, and even though I 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 compatibility--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 as I encompassed him.

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

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 or nine 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," I gasped. "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 open pussy touched me.

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, and though I continued to move under Desmond matching the old rhythms that were like new to me once more, I also seemed to float away from our conjugal embrace. Des hung on tightly to me, even as he sensed my mental distancing.

"Don't you dare run away from me, 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, I believe 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--sharp and staccato. Desmond's need to continue his urgency coupled with the the desire to slow it down and make it last long into the night was no longer an option. 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 clutched me hard in a full passionate grasp. He lurched--changing the severe angle of violation that held his cock sequestered in the enfolding, enveloping confines of my open pussy.

Oh, Christ! He's going to cum!

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!" My God, it had been six years since anything like this had back flowed from my loins.

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. The very next night I put Darcie to bed early. Immediately Des came into the bedroom stark naked and partially erect.