Grandma's pregnant.

Yup. Grandma's pregnant. Been verified, three different tests. There's no doubt.

Well, you say congratulations. She must be pretty young.

Uh, nope. Fifty-seven. That baby factory was supposed to have shut down years ago.

Oh. Well, I bet Granddad is happy.

Not really. He had nothing to do with it. See, he had this problem called BPH some years ago. The MDs did this procedure called "green laser," where they whittled away some of his prostate so he could empty his bladder without the pain and strain the swollen gland was causing. The good news was, he could pee again. The bad news is that he now had some urinary incontinence, softer to non-existent erections, less sensation during intercourse, and that pearlescent fountain of yesteryear was now a dribble because of something called "retrograde ejaculation," where most semen shot into the bladder. He and Grandma apparently hadn't had "marital relations" for some time.

So who's the daddy?

Well, you don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. But don't just jump to conclusions; let me tell you my side of the story.

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It all started when I graduated high school. I wasn't such a scholar that I was inundated with scholarship offers. In fact, not a one. Although I'm the only child, we aren't a wealthy family, so the big, prestigious colleges weren't in the picture. But just about 130 miles away was a college that offered a degree in robotics, my chosen career field. It also happened to be where my grandparents lived. My dad talked to them, and they agreed to house and feed me while I went to school. No sense, dad said, in paying for dorms and meal plans when this alternative was available. So we spent most of the summer before my freshman year fixing up their basement. Some paneling, a drop ceiling, big rugs. A desk and lights, plus a stool, sink, and shower. My own little apartment.

I moved in right after Labor Day. The first two weeks, my grandparents and I were reacquainted and established our routines. I had my own entry, so I could come and go without bothering them. We set up meal times, but otherwise I was on my own.

College life was different from high school. It took me a while to get acclimated. I was hitting the books a lot harder, along with labs and after-hours studying. By the time I got to bed at night, I was out like a light.

There was a girl in my English class, Hanna Torgersen. Hot Lips Hanna. Norwegian blonde, tall, brick-outhouse stacked, arctic-blue eyes, ruby-red lips. I had to watch myself so she wouldn't catch me staring. The girl of my dreams. And I dreamt of her a lot.

One night I dreamt Hanna and I were on a date. We were at a house party. I walked her out into the trees in the backyard. I turned her to me, and we kissed. Those sweet lips opened, and we dueled tongues. My hands ran down her back, cupping her butt, pulling her against me. Her arms went around my neck, her fingers running through my hair. Her hands went between us, she unbuckled my belt and lowered my zipper. With a sultry look in her eye and a smirk on those bee-stung lips, she knelt before me, grasping me in her dainty hand, gently stroking my rock-hard erection. She leaned forward, licking the pearl from the tip. I looked down as she gave me her eyes, extended her tongue, and guided my cock along her tongue and entered her mouth. She kept up the gentle stroking as she nursed on the head. I reveled in the sweet sensation of her enthusiastic attention. Holy shit, I was going to paint this beauty's tonsils! Here it comes!

Then I woke up.

Yes, I was getting a blowjob. Not from Hot Lips Hanna. By the faint glow of my nightlight, I saw it as...

Grandma.

"Grandma, what..." I began; then my orgasm hit. My back arched and my pelvis jumped, catching her surprise. A solid bolt of semen jetted into her mouth and was promptly swallowed. Then volleys number two, three, four, five. Finally, it ended and I fell back on the bed, arms wide, catching my breath.

"Grandma, what are you doing down here?" I croaked.

"Shh, you'll wake him." She was still stroking me, and to my surprise, Old Faithful had done a quick turnaround and was ready for round two.

"Grandma, I don't think we should be doing this," I whispered.

"Just don't think," she whispered back. "I've got an itch that needs scratching, and you're gonna scratch it for me. The easy one's out of the way, now let's get busy!"

She scrambled up my body, discarding her nightgown. Wow, for an older woman, Grandma looked amazing. Or any woman, for that matter. She had to have been a beauty in her youth, and she was still quite a looker. I had never regarded her in this light before, but then she had never been naked in my bed before. Bright eyes, full lips, that rare beauty that doesn't need makeup. Her breasts were full, a slight sag. A little tummy, full hips and thighs. And she had trimmed her pubic hair.

I saw all this in the two seconds it took her to put a hand on my chest and swing a leg over, sitting on my stomach. She grasped my cock and scooted backwards, brushing it across her already well-lubricated vulva.

"Thank God you inherited your grandfather's best feature. Now hold still while I get things organized here. It's been a while since I've had something this size, and it may take me some time to get situated."

Now I was no sexual novice. But a few hand jobs, and two blowjobs that ended much too quickly, didn't qualify me as the world's greatest lover, either. Her handling of my cock kept it so hard, I thought the skin might split. As much as I tried to remain still, my hips began that age-old motion, eager to get my cock into that hot, wet place it seemed to know lay in store. She settled down, notching the head in the gate to paradise.

"Now you just lie still." And she began the slow up and down motion, going deeper on each down stroke. Her vagina was copiously lubricated, but incredibly tight, fighting every inch my cock advanced. She exhaled sharply on the downstroke, gasping on the rise. Her face alternated between concentrated agony and absolute ecstasy as my cock advanced to its final destination. Then, it was balls-deep, her clit rubbing my pubic bone. She let out a satisfied "Ahhh."

She began to ride. Slow at first, building up speed until she was at a gallop, riding the plains with the wind in her hair. Eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth, her breathing becoming deeper and faster as her body neared its destination. Her breasts were bouncing, up, down, side to side. My hands went to them, squeezing and kneading, pinching and pulling on those hard nipples.

She went wild. "Fuck, boy, bite 'em. Suck those titties and bite on 'em." Now she had both of her hands on my collarbones. She was riding hard, the end in sight.

"Get your mouth on those titties and bite those nipples! Get to it!" From the look on her face, I thought she had fucked herself crazy, and I got to it. I took the nipple into my mouth and started sucking and working it with my teeth.

Her head went back, mouth wide open in an agonal groan as she climaxed. Her whole body shook as the orgasm engulfed her. Her vagina was a milking machine, rhythmically pulsating, drawing my semen.

Less than 15 minutes after the first, I had a second epic orgasm. She was laying on me as our breathing returned to normal. She gently caressed my abs. I was totally drained. Now I knew why it's called "la petite mort."

She crossed to the linen area, bringing back a bath towel. "Here, sleep on this. I'll take care of it tomorrow." She kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you. Now try to get some sleep."

She picked up her gown and gently padded up the stairs. I, on the other hand, lay back on the towel over the wet spot. Did what just happened happen? Had my own grandmother seduced me? Was it some sort of lucid dream?

I was still analyzing when sleep came.

The next morning was surreal. Grandpa drank his coffee, reading his paper. Grandma cooked me pancakes and eggs, and they made small talk while she puttered around the kitchen. Whenever I looked at Grandma, she gave me the same gentle smile, as always. No indication of the fierce tigress of the night before. Did what happened last night really happen?

That evening, I had a study session with some classmates and didn't get back until after ten. By then, I was so mentally exhausted, I just turned off the light and flopped into bed. Out like a light.

I woke to someone getting into bed with me. A knee over my right ear, weight on my chest as the other leg swung over, covering the left. I remember the smell of strawberries as I opened my eyes to see a woman's vulva descending on me.

Holy fuck, Grandma again!

I had covered up with a sheet, and her legs had my arms trapped underneath it. Her vulva rested on my mouth, and she began sliding over my lips while her clitoris rode my nose. She took two hands-full of my hair, arched her back and said, "Get your tongue moving, get it up in there." Her outer lips had already parted, and I guess her inner lips were very sensitive, because when I lightly ran my tongue over them, she drew in a quick breath, twisting her pelvis side to side. "That's it boy, keep doing that. Now run your tongue up and lick the inside, too. Lick at the top. Now run it in and out like your cock." That whole time, her clit continued up and back over my nose. And it all tasted like strawberries.

Now let me explain a little human physiology. You may have read or seen videos purporting that women can "squirt." They can not. What you see comes either from an artificial source or urine. Men ejaculate semen, which is manufactured in the prostate, and carries the sperm to its destination. Women have no such organ. Men also have Cowper's glands, which produce the fluid commonly called "pre-cum." This fluid's primary purpose is to lubricate the urethra, helping the semen on its journey. Some men produce more than others, sometimes so much that it appears their penis is drooling. A woman's vagina has Bartholin's glands. They produce a lubricant that allows the penis (or other device) to more easily enter the vagina. Much like the Cowper's glands, the Bartholin's sometimes produce excessive fluid.

I point this out because I began to notice fluid building up in my mouth, and it wasn't saliva. Also not the bitter taste of urine. It ran down my tongue to the back of my mouth. I had to swallow it, but it filled right back up. Then grandma started to pop. She got a death-grip on my hair, her knees tightened on my ears, she gave a deep "Nnnggg," and her whole body quivered. After it had passed, there was a surge of fluid cross my tongue, like gentle surf on a sandy beach. It happened about every thirty seconds, for several minutes.

Suddenly Grandma let go my hair, hopped off the bed, ripped off the sheet and her nightie, and mounted Grandpa's "best feature" again. I had been so intent on my oral situation that I hadn't realized the pony was ready to ride again. She leaned forward, cradled my head in her hands, and brought her lips to mine. She licked across and around my mouth, whispering, "Boy, my pussy sure does taste good. If I had known that, I would have been licking it off all those things I had been using before you got here."

That image did it for me. I grabbed her by the ass and rolled her over. Now she was underneath me and I was driving the bus. It was now me pounding her, and I could see the difference in her face, the shock, the acceptance of role-reversal as she hooked her feet over my calves, lifting herself up to meet my thrusts. Suddenly I felt her skin get hot. Really hot. Her face and chest flushed red, and her body froze as an orgasm consumed her. I fucked her through it, but just barely; seeing the ecstasy on her face and knowing it was me who put it there was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me in my short sexual life, and it triggered my own orgasm.

In the aftermath, as we lay side by side gathering our breath, I softly asked, "Grandma, what's going on?"

She snuggled closer to me, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. She whispered in my ear, "I just can't help myself."

That's when she told me the story. She and Grandpa had had a very active sex life. Ever since their wedding night, they were adventuresome lovers. She had gone from innocent bride to wanton wife, but only for grandpa. This love affair had persisted throughout their marriage until Grandpa could no longer perform. She was still having these almost uncontrollable sexual urges, but Grandpa had had his prostate surgery and was out of action. When a fully-functional male moved into the basement, she decided to avail herself of his (my) services.

"I'm not proud of myself," she whispered. "But it's like this fever that comes over me. I get this terrible itching that nothing else I've tried will satisfy. I'm so grateful you haven't sent me away. I really need your help with this until I can get over it." Then she gave me a wicked little smile, wiggling her hips against me, and The Red Rocket reported for duty again. "I need this, and not soft and gentle. The itch is something fierce, and it takes a lot of scratching."

So I rolled over and she "woofed" as my cock seated itself back into that hot, wet, tight place. She hooked her feet over the backs of my thighs, her arms under mine, and her hands grasped my shoulders. And she hung on for dear life. My hands grabbed her butt again and lifted her up, and I began to rail her. She started popping again, and this time her moans increased in volume. My hands were occupied, so to muffle her, I covered her mouth with mine.

Next thing I knew, we were Frenching, and she went wild, trying to buck me off. Her eyes were screwed shut, her whole face and torso were blushing beet red, and she literally screamed into my mouth. Then she had this grand-mal seizure. Every joint in her body locked up instantaneously. She was pulling on my shoulders so hard I thought she would break them. Suddenly she went silent, eyes wide open but unseeing, not breathing. And her vagina was an iron fist in a velvet glove, grasping my cock in a vise that kept it snugged up against her cervix.

And I came. Lord have mercy, did I come! My whole lower torso was cramping. Bang, bang, bang, I washed the face of her cervix with my pearly essence. At the first blast, her eyes met mine. They remained locked as our respective orgasms ebbed.

Afterward, we lay side-by-side, she stroking my chest while my face was in her hair. Presently she rose, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "Thank you. Now get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

And that's how it began. We fucked like bunnies. Grandma would come to me most nights. And we did it those days when I was home and Grandpa was out, either hanging with his buddies at the sports bar or the Senior Center. We were careful, Grandma especially so. It would not do to get caught. And I was getting a college-level education on pleasuring a woman. Grandma was an enthusiastic and innovative lover, and I was being tutored in techniques that certainly pleased her. The only exception was, the back door was locked, and there were no keys. There would be no traveling down the dirt road. Also no "water sports" (and I don't mean the back stroke). But it seemed we did everything else, in every possible way.

In late February, Grandma got a touch of the flu. She was mostly bedridden, so between Grandpa and me, we were able to figure out enough cooking that we didn't starve. After about ten days, she was well enough to get back into the kitchen, but she hadn't fully recovered. She was well enough, though, to resume her nightly sojourns. And they were mostly of me drilling her into the mattress. I initially took it easy on her, and she let me know under no uncertain terms that her itch demanded it hard and fast. I complied.

It was on Tuesday, March 4th, that things started to go to hell. Grandma was sitting tall in the saddle, hands on my chest, riding hard for the big house. I was playing with her puppies, enjoying the ride, when I made an innocent observation. "Boy, grandma, your nipples sure have gotten brown."

She turned to me with a look that went from erotic to quizzical to horror. She leaped off and ran to the vanity in my bathroom. She lifted first one of her breasts, then the other, back and forth, like she was juggling them. I thought it was kind of amusing. Then I heard her gasp, "Ohhh nooo!" She ran across the room, snatched her nightie, and was gone like a shot. Now I was totally confused. Had I damaged them? I was still wondering...