("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Gretchen's Grandfather by Pskao (pskao@juno.com) *** When Gretchen's grandfather discovers her crying, he learns it's because her dead husband had had a vasectomy even knowing that she wanted children. So Grandpa gives them to her and then finds out that other females in the family want kids too. (MFF, inc, preg) *** An unusual noise woke me up. I felt I had to investigate, as my granddaughter Gretchen was staying with me after her husband was killed when he drove into a tree while drunk, so I got out of bed and put on my robe. I followed the noise to the kitchen and peeked in. I felt like my heart was being ripped out when I saw that the noise was my beautiful granddaughter weeping but trying to keep silent. I didn't know what to do to comfort her, so I turned to go back to bed, but my robe must have brushed against something as she looked up and said, "Grandpa?" in an anguished voice. I turned back and took her outstretched hand in mine before sitting down next to her at the kitchen table. There were papers on the table that I hadn't noticed before. "Oh, grandpa!" she said. I put my free arm around her. "I know his dying hurts, baby, but..." I didn't know what else to say. "No, grandpa, that's not it. It's this," she said, and waved a sheet of paper in my face. "It's a receipt from a doctor. George had a vasectomy and never told me! He knew I wanted kids!" She sobbed some more. I never had a high opinion of George, Gretchen's husband. I thought there was something wrong with him from the moment she introduced us. George wouldn't look me in the eye and he had a very weak handshake, and his palms were sweaty, too. He seemed to like to drink a bit much (that got him wrapped around a tree!) but how could he not want to make babies with my beautiful granddaughter? She has a beautiful face, lovely breasts (yes, even though I'm her grandpa, I notice her breasts and everything else about her) a narrow waist, lovely legs, and baby-making hips! I looked at the paper. It was dated three months after their wedding. What an idiot! "Look," I said, "you're young. You have plenty of time to have kids. You were married two years but are still only 19!" "But you'd already had mom when you were 19!" she cried. "And mom had me when she was 16!" "And look how that turned out," I said. "Your grandmother ran off with a car salesman shortly after she had your aunt. And you and your three sisters all have different fathers. Your mom can't seem to keep a man, no matter how beautiful and sexy she is." "But Aunt Frieda didn't get married until she graduated from college, and she still doesn't have any children. Maybe we have to have kids when we're young, or we don't have any," replied Gretchen. "And maybe she and Edward don't want any. She's only 34 and young enough to have babies. Hell, Maria is only 35 and could have babies if she weren't on the pill," I said. "But mom already has four of us and needed time for herself," she replied. "Why don't you take time for yourself before having kids?" I asked. "I want to have a baby suckling these," she said, opening her robe and bringing out her exquisite breasts, "before they get all saggy." She looked down and said, "Maybe you could put that in me and make a baby just like you did with Mom," and she opened her robe completely to expose her blonde-furred pussy -- I could see her pussy lips through her fine blonde hair. I looked down and saw my hardening cock poking through a gap in my robe. I said, "I didn't know you knew." "Mom told me when I asked her about my father. She told me to keep it a secret, and I have. But you know already. You're healthy, grandpa. Your own parents and grandparents are all still alive, so we have good stock. Please, make a baby with me," she pleaded, opening her legs to dip a finger in her honey-pot to bring it out wet, showing she was ready. And it had been about a week since I'd had a woman, Mrs. Antonelli down the block. I'm sort of the neighborhood handyman, and I've had many of the married ladies in the neighborhood. So when Gretchen stood up, leaving her robe on the chair, and bent over the table, pushing papers out of the way, and said while spreading her legs, "Please, Grandpa, put a baby in me," well, I am a man, after all. I stood up, leaving my robe on my chair, too. Our first fuck was like that, her bent over the kitchen table, me behind her playing with her beautiful breasts and pussy, nibbling on her ear, and kissing her whenever she turned her head. One thing about getting older, I last longer. I loved feeling her squirm and tremble and squirt juices on my cock when she came, and I made her come three or four times before I shot my load. This was my own granddaughter, my own daughter I was fucking! And she was begging me to make her pregnant! Just that thought kept me from getting soft after I came. We fucked again on the sofa, missionary style, before going up to my bedroom where we spent the rest of the night making sweet love. I used my mouth and fingers when I finally went soft. She kept saying things like, "Oh, you're so much bigger than George. You're so much better than George. No one has ever made me come like this. Oh God! I want to marry you!" Not to brag, but I'd heard similar things from the women of the neighborhood. But they were all married. Gretchen was the first single girl I'd fucked since just before Gretchen was born and Maria moved in with her new boyfriend, an older man with servants. He'd kicked her out when he caught her with... Well, never mind that. Let's just say that my Maria is a beautiful woman with round heels, quite unlike her sister Frieda. To be fair, Frieda is also beautiful -- she just doesn't have round heels, being quite faithful, as far as I knew, to her scholarly husband Thomas. I seem to be wandering. To get back to Gretchen, she moved in with me after that night into the master bedroom. She also got pregnant. She must've told her mother and Frieda, as they each came for two week visits, one week overlapping, and they asked me to get them pregnant, too. Apparently I was wrong about Frieda -- she DID want to have babies but her scholarly husband's sperm never found her eggs. Maria had finally married someone, but he seemed to be sterile. So for one week, three of us shared a bed; then for the next week, four of us; then for the next week, three of us shared a bed. I got all three of my daughters pregnant, one of whom was also my granddaughter. I barely went soft during those three weeks. Maria sent her second daughter Anna to visit me when her husband failed to get her pregnant within six months of her marriage. She went home pregnant. Maria sent her third daughter Sophie to me a week before her wedding. She was pregnant before she made it to the altar. I refused to let Maria send me her youngest daughter Hilda, as she was only 16 and unmarried. Maria tried to tell me that Hilda was already older than she herself was when I got HER pregnant, but I refused to listen, being a lot older myself. Hilda had to wait until she was married before I got her pregnant. As far as anyone else is concerned, Gretchen and I are husband and wife raising our growing family. I'm still the neighborhood handyman, and still plant seeds in the neighborhood wives. Gretchen thinks it's funny. Me, I wonder what's going to happen when the neighborhood kids grow up and start marrying each other, not knowing they're really brothers and sisters. Or maybe they will know. The End ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 54