Every day I wake up and think about how I've helped grow my family tree with the birth of my beautiful son, Joel. And he grew up, like a strong branch, creating his own family. They are extensions of me, a representation of what I was able to give to the world with my body, strength, and leadership as a father.

Take, for example, my grandson, Luke. Luke's been through a lot. Emotional and physical transitions have shaped him in his own way, in a way that makes him comfortable with himself in spite of the cards handed to him by the world. And while I won't pretend that the era I grew up in exactly prepared me for perfect understanding, I know trees. I know what keeps branches alive. It's nourishment; give a tree the water it needs and it'll outlive any creature burdened by lesser things. I love my son, Joel. I love my grandson, Luke. I find ways, every day, to give them what they need to grow.

Now I've just spent the past few minutes telling you how strong I, and the people I brought into this world, are, and how proud I am of the whole line I'm a part of. But strength also comes from acknowledging your faults, and just so that you don't think I'm some stone-faced sod that takes himself too seriously, I need to tell you about those, too.

I've kept my body real powerful. I can out bench press 95% of you young whipper-snappers reading this. But I can't read a phone screen. I avoid self check-out lines. I didn't know how to connect to the internet back when computers screamed when you turned them on, and I haven't gotten any better even though the technology has.

And I have needs like everyone else.

These days, everyone uses these tiny phones and you're supposed to pinch the screen to read any of the words. I don't have time for that when I'm horny. I bought a big screen TV and when a man has something big, he's going to use it, right?

Luke, Joel's trans son, was staying over at my place while Joel went away on a work trip. I had assumed, after a brief check of the house, that Luke was out for the evening. I figured, if I have the place to myself, I should use it, right? I put some porn on the big screen, laid back, and set myself up for a wonderful solo evening in my living room.

I had no idea that there was another pair of eyes watching me…

So there I am, dick in my hand. My eyes drift from the big screen, across the room, and into the large, transfixed eyes of my grandson, Luke.

There are a few thoughts that hit me simultaneously. First, embarrassment. Maybe those tiny phone screens are good for something, after all. Second, surprise. I'm looking at my gorgeous grandson with my dick out and I realize how handsome he is, and how much he looked like my son—his father Joel.

And then, a third thought and a realization; he's not looking at the big screen. He's looking at me.

As if he suddenly became aware of my own stare, Luke bit his lip, pulled back, and retreated down the hallway. I heard the door close behind him. I turned off the TV and waited for a long moment, wondering how I could possibly apologize to Luke, or if I should even bring this up to him.

So, the next morning, I knocked on Luke's door and went in. He was reading on the guest room bed—his handsome, scruffy face giving no hint of bother or concern from the previous night's events.

Well! That makes things easier.

Carefully, I apologized, and told him that he shouldn't have to worry about wandering in on that. He shouldn't have to have seen his grandad doing that. I could have done it in my room, or made sure he wasn't home, or–

Then Luke said he didn't mind any of that.

I was stunned. I didn’t know how to respond, but for some reason my curiosity overpowered my common sense. I couldn't help but ask if he wanted to see me do anything else. But it was Luke that pushed forward, saying he liked what he saw. And I think, at that moment, there was no other choice for either of us.

Knowing he saw me in an aroused and near-orgasmic state changed how I saw him. He was no longer my son’s boy. He was a young man of his own. And a sexy one at that.

I laid down on the bed next to him, running my large hands along his slight body. His was toned and athletic, but considerably smaller than mine, which was well-stocked by the years. Luke kissed me, and I returned it. My grandson’s lips were soft and sweet, and his stubble against mine was electric. We explored each other's mouths for a long time, until his eager hands attacked the zipper of my jeans.

Luke had my big cock in his mouth with a confident speed I was unprepared for. I knew he had a boyfriend, but I had no idea I'd find out first-hand how well-practiced my grandson was with blowjobs. Luke's wet technique and swirling tongue left me cross-eyed, raggedy, and wild for more.

So now it was me, hands frenzied, who ripped away jeans. It was my first time seeing my trans grandson's bare loins; I saw, for the first time, his t-dick nestled among the fur of his groin and above his bonus hole. It was like opening a surprise present and finding something you never knew you needed under the paper. I buried my face between Luke's legs, kissing his inner thighs, lapping up his juices. I took in the scent of his sex.

We, after that, became a blur of flesh. I cannot speak for him, but I know that I was insatiable for him; my limbs moving with a sort of possession from one position to the next. I remember how he twitched and gasped at my touch. The feel of Luke's firm muscles beneath my palms was intoxicating, and second only to the warmth of my cock inside of his extra entrance.

Yeah. I took him. I banged my grandson silly. And he loved every minute of it.

I was getting lost in the heat of our skin, the smell of sweat and arousal, and the taste of his tight ass. Luke didn't complain once—and in fact, at one point, rode me, bouncing his compact body up and down in my lap.

When I was near my edge, I thought about how much of a shame it was that this happened at the end of Luke's stay with me. Since Luke's dad was away, arrangements had been made for him to be shuffled between my place and his uncle's.

As the last gasp of my orgasm ground out my throat, I knew that this wouldn't be enough. I knew I would need to get closer still to Luke—to experience this ecstasy again. I knew this because I could tell he loved it, smiling and panting and glowing with sweat as he was. And I also knew this because I know how trees grow. I know how a family grows. And I know that our roots can grow deeper, still.