Latina Granny Ch. 01

"Is Lucy here?" the young man asked.

He was standing on my doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in hand and wearing a nice sport coat and tie. I didn't think young men his age even knew what a tie was. If it hadn't been for the tie and his genuinely pleasant smile I might have bitten his head off.

This had been a rough day for me. Lucy, my granddaughter had come down with another one of her sinus infections. They didn't happen often, but when they hit, they always laid her low for two or three days at a time and this time she had waited a little too long before calling the doctor. She was sleeping in her room in the basement this very moment. I had just checked on her and she was fast asleep, her fever under control for the moment with the antibiotics hard at work fighting off the infection. I knew from experience she would overcome the germs but it would take at least another day of almost non-stop sleep before she could even hold down anything more than chicken broth.

This must be the date she had planned, I thought - and this guy was probably the reason she put off going to the doctor. She must have been hoping against hope that she could hold out long enough to go to this fraternity dance she kept talking about. I looked this young guy up and down once more and decided Lucy could have done worse. He was tall, fairly handsome, with a nice, honest square jaw and sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything all once as they darted first to me and then over my shoulder into the living room and back again to me.

I decided my granddaughter just might have a keeper with this one, though appearances could definitely be deceiving. "You must be Trent. Lucy's told me a lot about you," I told him with a smile. Then I added the bad news, "She's sick with a sinus infection," I told him. "She isn't gonna be fit to do anything for at least another twenty-four hours."

The young man was crestfallen. First, he got this panic-stricken look on his face and then I thought he might start crying. His chin dropped to his chest and he muttered, "That's too bad. I hope she gets better soon. I-I was really looking forward to this dance."

He turned to leave and added, "I'll call her the day after tomorrow. You tell her to take care of herself."

I'm not a soft touch but my heart really did go out to him. I didn't know what I could do to make him feel better but I didn't want to let him go away so dejected - especially if Lucy had some real feelings for the guy.

"Hey, Trent - wait a minute - please," I said, "You don't have to leave yet. Why don't you come in and we can talk for a minute. I'd like to get to know the guy my granddaughter is going out with."

Three minutes later he was sitting at the kitchen table with me drinking a soda. He seemed really nice and he was showing genuine concern for Lucy in the questions he asked.

"So she's not in any serious danger?" he asked.

"Well, any kind of infection is serious but she's been through this before and this time seems to be running its course. She just needs to sleep and take her medicine on time."

Before we finished our sodas I learned that Trent had been taking Lucy to a dance that was a pretty big deal for him. He was a pledge in his fraternity and this dance was a sort of final rite as well as some sort of test. Trent wasn't really clear what sort of test but it did require that he bring a date. Actually, he was careful to not call it a date. He kept saying 'female guest' instead of date and after a couple of minutes of hearing this I interrupted him.

"Why don't you use the word 'date' when you talk about my granddaughter?"

"Well, Lucy was going to be my date - but the fraternity has some very simple but very specific requirements for the guest we bring. I guess I've heard my pledge guides use the term 'female guest' so often I just started using it too. It's really all about meeting the requirements."

"Requirements? What kind of requirements are we talking about here?" I asked. I was beginning to worry about what they expected of Lucy.

"No, no! It's nothing bad!" Trent countered, realizing that I thought he might be leading my granddaughter into something I might not approve of.

"The brothers set this dance up as a final test. They just want to make sure we're able to get a date and then that we treat them properly at the dance. Since the university won't allow hazing the fraternity has set up a series of tests for pledges to make sure we measure up as gentlemen and as scholars. This is part of the test." And then, as if it would reassure me he added, "It's all on a point system,"

A fraternity point system involving my Lucy didn't sound very good. "So your fraternity is going to award you points for my granddaughter? Do you get extra points for how pretty she is? What else would your female guest have to do on this point system?"

Trent realized too late he was digging a hole for himself and how bad it sounded to go to a dance and be awarded points. "No, no! The points are awarded first for bringing a female guest. Period. Second I am graded on how graciously I treat my guest. And third - and this is the only part where my female guest has anything at all to do with the points I receive - she has to demonstrate reasonable social skills in things like dancing with other fraternity brothers, carrying on conversations and things like that. My fraternity has one of the highest reputations in academics and responsible behavior of any fraternity on campus."

Trent said this all with great conviction and I believed him. I had already begun to feel comfortable with this young man. He was honest, good looking, a college student like my Lucy and with a promising future. It sounded like his fraternity was no "Animal House" either. Still, I suspected there was something he wasn't telling me.

"So," I began, "They don't grade your female guest on their looks?"

"No, absolutely not," he snapped.

But then he sort of grinned sheepishly. Ah-ha, I thought, there was something else!

"What do they grade female guests on then?" I asked. I had this nasty suspicion it involved something even seedier. "Tell me, young man!" I commanded.

"It's not a grade. It's extra points," he answered hesitantly.

"Trent, what exactly do you get extra points for!" I pressed.

After a long hesitation he began to explain. He chose his words carefully, knowing by now he might get himself into some very hot water with the wrong words, "Well - bringing any female guest meets the requirement. But - if a pledge is able to bring an older guest - say the mother of a friend or someone who is over the age of thirty - then they will receive extra points. It may sound silly to invite a mother to attend but it does get extra credit."

I was mystified. I could not understand why anyone would want to bring their mother to a fraternity dance. I couldn't understand why it earned extra points and I couldn't understand why Trent needed extra points. What could he do with them?

"Hunh?" I sort of grunted. My confusion showed.

"The extra points guarantee my acceptance into the fraternity and the pledge with the most points gets the pick of his room next semester when we get to move off-campus and into the house," he explained.

"But why bring your mother, for God's sake?" I blurted out.

"Oh, not my own mother! Someone else's mother. We get the extra points for bringing a female guest who is of an age to be a mother but not our own mother."

Well that clarified part of it but I had to ask, "Why a mature woman your mother's age in the first place?"

Trent smiled sheepishly and added, "It's kind of a badge of honor to bring a mother. It sort of demonstrates that you're an alpha male, I guess. You have to be a very persuasive person to talk a mature woman into attending a fraternity dance."

There was a pause while I let all this soak in. He was right, of course except that right now I wouldn't have minded a fraternity dance myself if all the guys were as polite and charming as Trent.

"Then too," Trent resumed in a softer, almost confidential voice, "There's the distinction of bringing a MILF."

I'd heard the term a time or two but didn't really know what it meant. One of the neighborhood boys had used the term in talking to a friend while I was out doing some yardwork and I suspected he was talking about me but I wasn't sure.

"What is a MILF?" I asked.

"It's an acronym. I'm sort of ashamed to tell you what it means. It might offend you," Trent said.

"I don't think there's anything you could say to offend me," I answered.

"Well, OK. MILF stands for mother I'd love to fuck."

His explanation took a moment to sink in. When it did I'm sure my eyes opened wide. "You young men are horrible! That's the naughtiest thing I've ever heard!" I huffed.

Secretly I was a little thrilled that the neighbor boy found me attractive and not over the hill. I had trouble understanding why a handsome young man would be attracted to someone of my age. On the other hand, it sent a deliciously lewd thrill to my belly when I imagined a handsome, virile young man wanting to perform the dirtiest of deeds with little old me.

"I'm a grandmother!" I added.

Trent looked at me calmly then and said, "Well, that makes you a GILF."

That sentence took another long moment to sink in before I asked him, "Do you think I'm a-a GILF?"

"I hope it doesn't offend you - but DEFINITELY!" Trent answered without hesitation.

Trent had given me a lot to think about. It had been a long time since anyone had caused me to think of myself as sexy - or attractive for that matter. If he wasn't just making it up (and I don't think he was) there was a whole thing having to do with young men fucking mature women. There were young men who wanted to fuck me. This was a notion that took some getting used to. Don't get me wrong. I didn't exactly think it was sick or perverse. In fact, the thought of a virile young stud - like Trent for example - willing and eager to rub bellies with a sixty-one year-old grandma sort of lit my fuse.

I thought this all over for a long moment and then asked my daughter's boyfriend, "If you took a GILF to the dance would you get even more extra points?"

It was Trent's turn to look shocked. I have to admit it was a look on his face that I enjoyed.

"W-well yeah." He stammered "Definitely. Hands-Down. No doubt about it."

It took him almost a half minute before he smiled at me and added, "I would be honored to take a beautiful lady like you to the dance. If you like we can just tell them you're Lucy's mother and not her grandmother. You could certainly pass for a MILF.

"Nope. I want them to know I'm a grandmother." Somehow it mattered to me that they would know. The thought of being out at a dance with a handsome, much younger man excited me much more than I expected.

With my mind made up, I turned to all the more practical matters involved. "Do we have enough time? Will we be too late? Gosh, I don't know what I'll wear!" I fretted.

Trent assured me that we could get there as late as 8:00 o'clock and everything would be fine. He even told me we didn't have to stay more than forty-five minutes. If I didn't like the vibe or being around a bunch of nerdy frat boys turned her off we didn't have to stay.

What to wear, though? I needn't have worried. Lucy and I were roughly the same height and build. I quickly charged down to the basement and discovered the dress she planned to wear hanging on her closet door.

Oh, shit, I thought to myself as I examined the dress. It truly was a little black dress. It was made of the sleekest satin but it would take all the courage I had to wear it. I had never in my life owned - let alone worn a little black dress and I had never worn anything like this in public. I wondered just how daring my little granddaughter was as I considered what I was about to do.

Up to now I haven't told you much about myself and it will probably matter as I tell you the rest of what happened. I'm sixty-one, 5' 1" tall and weigh about 100 pounds. Most people say I'm on the skinny side. I am Latina on my mother's side and still have thick jet black hair that reaches down to the middle of my shoulder blades. I have just a wisp of grey hair along my temples and I wear it proudly. I worked sixty-one years to earn this little bit of gray and I don't care what others think of it. My face is sort of almond-shaped and sometimes I get mistaken for part Asian. I still have a trim figure after two children and all these years. I've still got curves where I should have curves. I'm not by any stretch of the imagination "busty," though my breasts have grown a bit over the years and they do sag just a little. It makes them bounce more when I go braless. My nipples are still sensitive. They are big and a much darker color than most women's, mostly because of my Latino heritage. Even if my breasts do ride lower on my chest today, the nipples still stand up big and proud.

Examining the dress, I decided I just might have no choice but to go braless tonight. That would pose some interesting challenges if I did any dancing, I thought with a smirk.

It had been a busy day, what with taking Lucy to the doctor's office, trips to the pharmacy and the time getting my little Lucy comfortable. I had taken my shower just a little while ago and was more or less cleaned up. All that remained was to shave my legs, put on makeup and dress. Something told me I had better shave my legs for this soiree. I panicked again when I realized I didn't have the sort of makeup an affair like this demanded. I solved that problem by raiding Lucy's makeup kit. The girl had planned for everything!

Standing in front of the mirror after rushing through all this caught me by surprise. I looked stunning! I let the sight of myself in the mirror sink in and I began to wonder if I wasn't going a little too far. After all, I was doing this all for a man more than 40 years my junior. What if he didn't think I looked as good as I felt right now? What if I looked too good? I didn't want to have to fight anybody off. The inside of my head was all a big jumble of feelings and I was having a hard time sorting them out.

It was then that I looked down at my feet. I had no shoes to wear - unless I wanted to wear a pair of scuffed up muddy tennis shoes. Once again I trotted down to Lucy's closet. She had planned for everything! There, still in the box were a pair of truly wicked black, patent-leather pumps. It had been ages since I'd worn heels and these were four inches high. I could already feel my feet beginning to hurt even before I put them on but I knew they would be worth it. The added lift would be a nice edge and if I remembered how men responded to a great pair of legs in high-high heels I was certain to stiffen more than a few young cocks tonight. I force-fed Lucy her medicine, forced a few sips of water in her and waited all of two minutes for her to drift back to sleep before picking my way carefully up the steps. Four-inch heels were a bitch to walk in no matter how great I felt wearing them.

"How do I look?" I asked. I was back in the living room standing in front of my date for the evening. I needn't have asked. Trent's eyes were as big as saucers and his jaw was slack. Slowly he began to grin as he ogled my transformation.

"Will this get you any extra points?"

It took effort but Trent answered me at last, "They may give me the mortgage to our house when they see you."

"So you still think I'm a GILF?"

"We'd better leave right now or I will have to prove you're a GILF," Trent said in answer.

He said it with such conviction that I scurried for the door immediately, just a little afraid he meant it.

Trent held the door for me and I took his arm as we walked. He was a bit timid and I liked that. I also liked that he genuinely thought I was desirable. After all, being a GILF did mean I was desirable.

On the drive over to his fraternity house, we talked. Well, actually I sort of grilled Trent to discover more of the ground rules for the evening. I couldn't leave my granddaughter alone for very long so he promised we didn't have to stay more than an hour and a half. He assured me there wasn't going to be any alcohol. He also gave me the names of the president and the "pledge captain" (his words, not mine) so that I could be certain to impress them.

All this seemed surreal. I had never even met Trent until two hours ago and now I was dolled up in the sexiest dress I'd ever worn in my life with a young man one-third my age and getting ready to impress a group of college boys. To make my situation even stranger - I wanted more than anything to put pure, full-strength, undiluted lust for me in the heart of every guy I met tonight. My whole body tingled. I felt more alive, more sensual, more desirable and aroused than I had in a long, long time. I just might need a thorough fucking before this night was through, I decided. It was at that very moment I realized I was grinning like a Cheshire cat and my whole body was beginning to tremble with all the nervous sexual energy building up inside me.

Trent's fraternity house was not a stately mansion but it was large and it had every light on when we arrived. There were already quite a few people there and we had to park almost a block away. I took my young date's arm as we walked. I enjoyed the comfort his strong arm gave me as well as the support. Walking in four-inch heels in the dark when I hadn't worn heels in ages was a special challenge in itself. I also drew comfort from being so close beside him as we walked. Even in these wicked high pumps I had to look up to Trent as we talked.

When the door opened we were greeted by the very two guys Trent had told me to impress, Larry, the president and Steve, the pledge captain. During my introduction I made a point of pressing my hand in theirs as long as possible and flashing each of them a big smile. Steve, the shorter of the two spent most of his time ogling my boobs and I quickly decided he would be an easy touch if I decided I really wanted to impress him. After all, I was dressed to impress.

Larry was about Trent's height and I could tell right away he was confident and exuded all the charm in the world. I was more than a little taken with the way he responded to the hand I offered. In no time at all he was caressing my arm to the elbow and leading me into the big room where music was playing. In my already aroused state his touch was putting goosebumps down my back. I tried not to let him know how much I liked his touch but by the time we made it into the room where they were dancing I would have happily curled up in his lap and started kissing him.

Trent tagged along and when Larry finally released my hand I turned to Trent, sighed and said, "We need to get out there and dance right now!"

I needed to shake the excitement I felt at Steve's warm touch and I also wanted the chance to kind of size up the group. It was a slow number which would give me the chance to whisper a few bits of advice in Trent's ear as we danced. There were the usual wallflowers lined up along the walls and huddled around the refreshment table, along with four or five couples on the floor. As I expected, the guys outnumbered the gals by about three-to-one. As I danced and slowly drifted across the room in Trent's arms, I noted that most of the young men seemed to have their eyes trained on me. So much for using our dance to calm down my libido, I thought to myself. Knowing there were easily fifteen young men one-third my age watching me, admiring me, desiring me only made me weaker in the knees. I took a deep breath and decided to give in to my freshly kindled craving for this kind of attention.