It’s interesting how our minds work. For example, last week a guy I play tennis with asked me “how many kids you have?”
In retrospect, he wanted to brag about HIS kids, and he did that after I gave him the simple reply: “two sons and 5 grandchildren”.
But that got me thinking and wondering if maybe I actually did have “more” kids? and grandchildren? I was 72 and by that age most people realize that the only value in their life has been was the children and grandchildren and great-great grandchildren if they took part in creating them.
I used a condom for sex before I was married, and didn’t cheat on the marriage until I was 60, and then only with women way past 50 which is a reasonable “use by” date for women to have babies.
But the first time I had sex was “to learn how”, and although I took a condom with me to the whorehouse in Nevada when I was a month past my 18th birthday, for some reason I did not USE it. I guess I decided (wrongly!!) that if I let her suck my cock, I had been exposed to any and all diseases she had so why bother with the condom? Of course, that is not true. STDs may not be present in saliva, and transmission of an STD may require more trauma than a good cocksucker provides.
I had a friend who worked for Ancestry.com and he agreed to let me submit some cells for DNA but use fake info on the submission. I agreed to pay him $200 extra, and another $300 if they “found” anything (which of course they would find because I must have had just as many relatives as anyone else in terms of grandparents). What he found was an eye-opener. A whole family of Chicanos who must have had “my whore” as a grandma. She had 4 children and they had a total of 17 grandchildren, 4 of which were “mine” from the one grandson (father of the 4) I had fathered by not using a condom.
I assumed she was using a fake name (Pat), and that there was no way to find out anything about her- but DNA cuts through all that by allowing almost certain identification of a persons child, and so it was pretty much certain that Luiz Alvarez was my son, his kids probably my grandchildren (although maybe his wife cheated on him?) and his mom was “Pat” the very beautiful sexy young woman who had taught me how to fuck and had offered to teach me how to eat pussy, if I came to visit her again. I never did visit her again, but have fond memories of my time with her- everything about my experience there was PERFECT. Even the fact that I did not realize there was a “time limit” and when a bell rang indicating 30 minutes was almost over, she informed me that “you only got 5 minutes to be out of here”. She pushed me off missionary position and rolled over to present her beautiful butt to me, spreading her legs so that her cunt was right there for me to enter from behind, framed by her beautiful buttocks. And as I started fucking her, I was delighted by how pretty and clean her asshole was (but did not consider fucking it).
Without the distraction of looking at her face and breasts, and the control I had, and something about the position rubbed my cock differently, and maybe she was feeling me differently because she sort of gave a small groan when I pushed all the way into her. If you look at a saggital MRI while humans are fucking, the uterus cervix can be pressing on the “little hat” of the penis, OR it can be rubbing against the frenulum, which is the most sensitive part.
Anyway, and regardless of why, and regardless of my knowing I was going to be tossed out in a few minutes… one minute of rapid stroking in that position and I was delivering a huge load into her… then was getting dressed to leave.
I noticed her squatted down… so pretty and sexy that I wished I could just start fucking her again right then. When she leaned forward to use her fingers in her vagina, her large breasts swung free and looked so pretty. She was squatting over a bowl of water she had used to wash my cock when I first got there- and was doing what she said was a “finger douche”. I knew that was not going to be effective considering I had just deposited a big load on her cervix, and a lot of sperm could already be in her uterus… but I didn’t mention that… didn’t leave any ID… and never returned although I would have returned weekly for the rest of my college years if it had been practical to do so.
Then the next week I had a sore on my penis- but it healed. I later got a test for syphilis which was negative, and back then they did not test for HPV, which was probably what had infected me- and which probably healed. I’m not sure if doctors routinely test for HPV, but my son’s mother had died of Cancer of the Cervix, so she may have been infected chronically and the HPV actually killed her by causing cancer. So what was I supposed to do about my newly discovered son? He was born almost exactly 9 months after my encounter with his mother Pat (whose name was actually Maria). I was 72 and he was almost 19 years younger (52). At 52, his kids were possibly as old as 30 or even 37 if he knocked up some girl when he was 15? The next several months consisted of learning more about Luis and his children and their children, and wondering how to make sure they were related to me and not the result of Luis’ wife cheating on him. Plus maybe he had fathered other kids that didn’t show up on the DNA chart because they had never provided cell DNA for analysis?? I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, or what I “should” do… but it seemed like a good idea for me to learn who and how many might be interested in my estate- everyone can use some money and Pat had never given me any reason to not consider her a love of my life, even if she had been a hooker in Nevada who fucked hundreds of guys (or, more likely, thousands).
That did not change the FACT that she had a child that was half mine, and I had a lot of fun providing all the sperm she needed to create that child.
By the time I learned that Luis lived in Nevada, where he had grown up, he was already dying of lung cancer in a small hospital near the town he had lived in. I guess when he was born, his mother Pat had married a local rancher and had two children with him, plus the one child she had before Luis was born. Luis’ children had all moved to California eventually- none remained in Nevada. I had their names and addresses; all of them had police records, but nothing serious… just the kind of petty crime that poor people are arrrested and jailed for while guys like Trump rob millions and never pay taxes.. but get elected president (instead of jail where they belong).
I had pictures of the two sons Luis acknowledged, because they had California driver’s licenses, but almost no information about the two daughters he had while living in Warlot Nevada and taking care of his mother Pat (Maria) until she died when he was in his 20s. And there was no way for me to be sure that any of his children were related to me, although it seemed likely.
Luis had died by the time I managed to travel to Nevada, and I missed his funeral, which might have been a great chance to see his children (and grandchildren! some of them might be related to me also if any of his children were). But I did get a list of addresses from the local undertaker, and he even had a couple of pictures from the funeral, but they did not indicate who was family and who was friend. I had the names of his children and got their addresses (all of them) from the funeral director, who probably collected them to help make sure he got paid?
I headed off to Chula Vista to find out more about my possible Granddaughter Maria, named after her grandmother. Maria would have been born in 1983 so she was 36 when I got to Chula Vista in the summer of 2017. I rented a car and drove out to the address I had for Maria Albado, which was her married name. I knew she was married and that she had 4 children, but I guess they were all in school or grown and gone, because there were no kids in or around the house and it was a Saturday. I saw a man leave in an old Ford pickup truck, and wondered if that was Maria’s husband. I decided to go to the door and…
Actually I did not really have a PLAN, I just wanted to see and hear her and then I would come up with a plan to find out for sure if she was “mine”. Of course any children she actually popped out of her body would be mine also if she was my descendant genetically, but so far all I knew for sure was that Luis was my boy.
I knocked on the door and it was opened by a truly beautiful black haired girl (woman, but half my age, so sort of a girl to me). If I had described Pat more fully, the description would have been exactly right for this woman, and I asked if she was “Maria Albado” and she asked me why I wanted to know. I explained that if she could show me proof she was Maria Albado, I had some money I was supposed to give her from someone who appreciated her but couldn’t deliver the money in person. I realize that sounds lame to you (and to me), but it did not seem unreasonable to her and she got me a picure ID.
I explained that I needed to get the money from the car, and would need to take a picture to prove she had accepted it, and she didn’t blink.
I went out to the car and found an old envelope, put most of my spare cash in it, and returned to her front door where she was waiting. Every time I looked at her I found myself thinking about how much she looked like her grandmother and how much I enjoyed fucking her grandmother and how really great that had been.
I used my phone to take a picture of her accepting the money from me- I propped the phone on a table and used the timer delay which I did not know how to use, but did get a picture the second try, and it did not have to be centered so… I was ready to leave but was surprised that she was so appreciative of the gift that she stepped forward and grabbed me to start hugging me.
“If I can’t hug the person who gave this to me, I guess I should hug you since you delivered it.” Her breasts pushed against me and I could smell the perfume in her beautiful jet black hair. I found myself wishing I had made a plan. She laughed and told me, “I guess this is money from one of the guys who used to date me when I was a dancer. Not all of them were jerks, but mostly they just wanted sex and I never expected them to care about me later… that cash would have bought them 5 lap dances and ‘all of the trimmings’.”
I asked what she meant by trimmings and she explained that the place she danced was really just a whorehouse, and the lap dances in private were blow jobs or fucking, not dances.
I was sort of surprised by her honesty, and how direct she was about her past. She smiled at me and said, “I can tell YOU like me… I am too old to appeal to the young guys but maybe you like me a lot, senor.”
I smiled and thought about how much I did like her, but knew better than to tell her about how I fucked her grandma… instead I just explained that I would love to have a “lap dance” if she wanted to provide me one in private right now. “It’s $80”, she said… then laughed and said “it was only 50 the last time I was actually dancing, and since you brought me all that money, you can have the first one for free and maybe you will enjoy it so much you will want more another day.”
I had put all my cash in the envelope, and she was not set up to take credit cards… so that was an offer I could not refuse. I told her I would love to watch her dance; that I was enchanted by her beauty (which was basically true). She didn’t need more encouragement than that, and provided her own music by singing some song I had never heard before as she stripped off her sweater, then her house-dress and I was surprised that she just kept on stripping until she was totally naked.
All the time she was getting closer to me and by the time she dropped her panties, I had already had the joy of having her soft breasts pushed in my face. She did not seem to pull away when I caressed her hips, then buttocks..while she rubbed her breasts in my face. “No rules about touching here, I like being touched if you do it nice like that.”
She turned and pushed her bare bottom at me as I sat forward on my chair and caressed her legs and butt, and wondered if I was supposed to pull out my erection and pull her down onto it.
“You having problem getting hard?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and dropped to her knees and had my cock out of my pants faster than I could have done that.
She licked the tip of my cock as she fondled my balls and mumbled somethin that may have been in Spanish, then she let my cock slide into her mouth and backed away so her tongue ran along the bottom side of my cock and although I had been having trouble getting stiff, I was getting stiff NOW. She seemed to enjoy what she was doing, and I did not resist when she stood up some and sat forward on me, sliding my cock into her as she pushed her naked body against me and started humping her hips. I probably would not have tried to fuck her, but now that it was happening I wondered why I was such a wuss… I had spent my whole life always assuming that a woman did NOT want me to get sexy- most guys think the absolute opposite even though they are rarely correct..
I don’t think she was faking when she seemed to have an orgasm- she was not faking how wet and swollen her vulva were. I realized that I had released some into her, and maybe this was incest… but “not really” and I wasn’t totally sure she was my grand-daughter. I did realize that nothing I had done in the past few years was half as much pleasure as meeting Maria had been.
I asked if I could phone her and eventually started sending her money and gifts, which she appreciated and encouraged me to visit so she again could show me directly how much she appreciated.
I was being treated like a John, not like a grandpa… but actually it was wonderful. I did sort of wonder and worry about her getting pregnant, but she didn’t (and eventually told me she was taking BC pills). Maybe she was fucking lots of guys, but really the only thing mattered was that we seemed to provide a lot of pleasure for each other.
I gave up the idea of making sure that she was the child of my son Luis; instead I started writing to her, phoning her, and when her husband divorced her I increased my financial support for her. She never seemed to suspect that I was her grandfather, but she did often tell me how much she loved me and how kind and thoughtful and… blah blah I was. One time was enough for her to realize that I wanted to finish in “doggy” position, the way I had first finished (with her grandma).
It was not really difficult for me to want everything good for her. She was lovely in every way a woman can be lovely and lovable- and my kids and grandkids will be surprised to find out how I changed my will, but I bet they just assume she was a hooker. Maybe she assumes that also? I don’t know, but I know that having her in my life has made my life worthwhile, and before I met her I was just dragging through the days.
I would visit her more often, but I don’t really need the sex nor does she need it (from me)… and I have my old life, which seems so much better now that I have Maria to email, to phone, to visit… to love. The meaning of life IS our children… but not the same meaning for everyone?