My Unusual First Time Ch. 02bydjeroticon©
Readers should read part 1 first, as this chapter will not work as well without it.
I saw Ed the very next day at church. We were both with our families so we couldn't talk much. I didn't like to do it, but I had no choice but to divert attention from myself so Ed wouldn't be suspicious of what happened with Rose after he'd scurried out of his brother's place.
"Where did you take off to?" I said in a low voice when we met in the church men's room, making the problem about him instead of me. "Left me holding the bag, didn't you?"
He wore a pained expression. "I'm sorry, Dan. She's living with my brother, okay? I was about as embarrassed as I could get."
We didn't say anything for a few moments, just finished up our business at the urinals and zipped up. This I did with care: my dick was practically raw from masturbating again, once last night and once in the bathroom early that morning, reliving what went on with Rose on Saturday afternoon. Truth is, I was delirious from the headiness of the whole thing, my mind full of images of her body and mostly of the way she had talked to me. I could have done myself again right there in the church restroom, raw and sore or not.
"Did she say anything after I left?" Ed was at the door, looking out through the frosted green glass of the upper part in case anyone should be coming. We'd already checked the stalls for occupants when we came in, like co-conspirators.
"Just that we shouldn't be careless leaving stuff out like that, and that maybe I should leave to be sure I wasn't late for supper" I lied. I held my breath to see if Ed would call my bluff. Maybe he'd waited down the street on his bike for me, maybe he knew how long I tarried at his brother's house.
I felt like a shit for lying to my friend, but at the same time was relieved to see him accept my story. Nothing good could come of him knowing about yesterday. I promised to myself it was the last lie I'd tell him, but of course that was not to be. Sorry, Ed.
All the rest of that morning and early afternoon after church I stayed at home and worked around the house like a busy beave. Dad looked at me funny as I attended to the lawn (even trimming the borders, a task I've always loathed) and clipped back the bushes by the front side of the house. Yes, he looked at me funny, but then again he didn't raise a hand to protest. How could he know that I was trying to keep my mind off of Rose and the way she had casually mentioned that Harland was "back on Tuesday."
This was still Sunday. Two days more until Harland returned from that construction site. Despite how much use my poor privates had been put to in the last 24 hours, I still had half a hard-on in my jeans, persistently reminding me of what I could be doing instead of setting up the lawn sprinklers at just the right points so that they covered the whole front yard, simultaneously.
In the shower, washing off the sweat and dirt from my efforts, I'll admit I did stroke my cock for a little while. It was a habit I'd indulged in since puberty, so it was no big deal. But I found myself drifting away to that house and the possibilities and questions there. Did she think I was too skinny? I looked down at my hip bones protruding ever-so-slightly, then further down to what seemed to me like knobby knees and long, thin feet. I suppose being skinny does make your dick look bigger, I joked to myself, as I idly palmed it. As far as the knees went, Rose hadn't minded using my leg to get herself off in that bathroom, so why should I think that she found me unattractive?
Bigger questions I tried to push away. Ones like: how can Rose keep her life with Harland separate from what she did for me yesterday? Or: can't a woman get pregnant even if the sperm doesn't get up inside, but only on the outside? I remember reading stuff about that. And, finally: what can you possibly say in defense if people find out?
You'd think that all this turmoil would have kept me away from that house forever. But you'd be wrong. A stiff dick has no conscience.
As I pedaled up her street I told myself that I was just going for a Sunday ride, just scouting out lawns that Ed and I might mow for some spare money. Not that I seriously figured I'd be doing yard work much longer in my life. I was getting too old for that shit. It was a fair weather time late in the month of May, so people were out walking. That's something you don't see much anymore – everyone's out shopping, I suppose, so they drive. I saw some folks I knew and felt guilty about where I was going, but certainly they couldn't have known. Besides, I had nothing to feel bad about, right?
Harland's house is set back from the road. I paused at the base of the driveway and thought about a cover story, in case his truck was around the back (Looking for Ed, have you seen him today?). I peered around at the neighboring houses, checking for snoops, and then rolled my bike up the driveway, satisfied that my approach wasn't causing any ado.
Rose looked sweet and soft when she answered my knock at her back door, thankfully not annoyed that I'd popped in. I wanted to embrace her as she opened it, but there was an awkwardness lingering from what had happened between us yesterday, a feeling that kept me from knowing quite what to do.
She was in a navy blue skirt, flouncy like a tennis skirt but not so short, and a white blouse with a scoop neck; it had a couple of translucent, aqua-colored buttons down the front. Her feet were bare, no stockings either. Her body looked good to me.
"I hope it's okay I came back so soon. You said that Har--"
"Yes, he'll return Tuesday" she interrupted me, like she'd rather I not say his name. "It's fine you came back. I was just about to have a sandwich. Did you eat?"
And so it was that I stood in her kitchen and helped with the turkey, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. She told me she'd cook a pound of bacon at a time and drain it, then keep it in saran wrap in the fridge so she could enjoy it on this, her favorite style of sandwich. Instead of mayonnaise she preferred Miracle Whip, just like my mother.
All the while she remarked on this I was eyeing her cleavage, admiring the fall of her hair, noticing the profile of her chin, checking the little stud earrings in her small ears, and yearning to run my hand up her exposed legs.
It dawned on me, even as I was inventorying her charms, that maybe one lesson I was learning from Rose was to appreciate everything about a woman, including her little ways of doing things (like making these sandwiches). Her speaking style, her sense of humor, how she might feel about simple pleasures in life, those are things that define a person. Whether I'd have figured this out so soon without the tantalizing lure of sexual activity is an unanswerable question.
As she finished the sandwiches and asked me if I'd prefer milk or soda, she switched subjects without any warning. "I don't want you to kiss me, Danny. I hope that's all right. I need to save that for Harland."
This she was saying while putting out State Line potato chips to go with the sandwiches, and pulling up a couple of tall chairs so we could eat right there at the kitchen counter.
"Okay, Rose. I understand." Of course I didn't, but if that was the way it was, okay. It's not like this was any kind of normal thing we were doing here, with pre-set rules. I dug into the sandwich.
After a few moments of us making eating noises, she asked me "Has a girl ever let you kiss her?"
"Once" I remembered. It came back to me clearly, even though I'd forgotten the whole thing. "We were both fifteen. It was in the back of the school bus. Linda Chesney. She was moving the next week, out of state. She told me she always liked me and then put her mouth on mine. It was a surprise."
"Was it a long deep kiss?"
"Yeah. Her breath was warm and her tongue went in my mouth. Then she got out at her stop and I never saw her again. The guys bugged me for a month about it."
Rose smiled. "So this girl kisses you and that's it? You didn't try to see her afterward? It sounds like you liked it."
"I did like it, that's true" I admitted, washing down a mouthful with the milk. "But she moved away. She wasn't back in school the next day."
Rose shook her head a little and looked out the window. Her own sandwich was half eaten on her plate. "Danny, Danny. What's to be done with you? Why didn't you get on your bike and ride over to her house? You knew when she was moving. You had time before then." As usual, Rose's voice was light even though here words were penetrating. She surely did have my number.
"I guess I was scared. Her kiss was so strong. I didn't know what it meant, then."
"Good. Another honest answer. You're making progress. Pretty soon you won't dance around questions at all. A woman wants a man who's straight and direct. Even if he says things she doesn't want to hear."
We washed the dishes side by side at the sink. I had a good look down the front of her blouse, which I'm sure now she realized I was doing. I could see the satiny cups of her bra. It looked like a Playtex.
As I wiped the plates she asked what she could do for me today, in a tone like a waitress at the diner.
"Geez, Rose, you make me crazy when you say something like that. It makes me want to do everything with you. You've got me nuts." It was the truth. "I mean, when you told me I could come over and, you know...."
"Jerk off?" she said purposely, knowing full well what her saying things shocking like that would do to me. "Is that what you want?"
"Of course. And anything you'll let me do." I looked at her and then turned to put the plates in the cabinet. When I turned back I could see that she'd been thinking.
She reached into the cabinet below the sink and came out with a medium-sized glass bottle that had an Italian name on it. It could have been Greek, I don't recall. "Let's stick to the basics right now, Danny" she said, undoing the top of the bottle. Then she reached around me to draw me into a position facing the sink, right up close to the counter, and before I could catch on her hands were undoing my belt and drawing down the zipper of my pants.
I don't have to tell you how good that felt, having Rose's hands on me. My breath was hot in my chest as she calmly slipped my pants down to my thighs, revealing my briefs and the growing bulge inside. "That looks needy" she commented. "Why don't you take it out?"
I groaned and fumbled at myself as Rose poured a quarter-sized puddle of yellowish-green liquid from the bottle into her palm. Her eyes were on my hands as I drew my penis out of my underwear. "Olive oil is just the trick. Let me put it on for you."
I almost cried out in pleasure like a baby as I felt Rose's hand on my erection for the first time. Oh, it's true she had tenderly cleaned me off the day before with that warm cloth, but it had been more of a comforting, post-orgasm feeling. Her hand applying soothing oil up and down my rod now was a full-blown sensation! She made a small sound of approval as I instinctively started a thrusting motion through the slick tunnel of her fingers. I looked at her looking at my dick and felt wonder, pride, lust, and a funny sort of peace, all at the same time.
And then she pulled her hand away and started to wipe it off on a dish towel. I grunted with extreme dissatisfaction until I saw Rose methodically unbuttoning her blouse and skirt, letting them fall to the floor as she gracefully swept the clothes off herself. With a quick push she was sitting on the counter to the right of the sink, facing me, where I could get a good look at her. White panties and a bra that opened at the front.
Rose pointedly eyed my dick and then looked into my eyes as I stood there at the sink. "Well, go on" she urged.
Which I did, especially when she artlessly unhooked her bra and matter-of-factly allowed her breasts to hang free. They bobbed slightly as she tossed the garment aside on the counter. I marveled again at how perfectly lovely she looked. The flesh-on-lubricated-flesh sound of me masturbating soon filled the room as I ogled those twin swells and their exquisitely-hued nipples. Rose had no issue with caressing them for me, either, as if she sensed what I might want to see at any moment. Even the women in the magazines didn't do more than cup them, not then, whereas her thumbs and forefingers squeezed the tips lewdly before me. The nipples crinkled into taut arousal.
"Did you play with yourself last night?"
Again I nodded.
"I thought you would. Boys simply can't help it, and there's little to stop them anyway."
She studied my hard penis as I stroked it. I stared at the exposed flesh of her chest, recalling how nice it had been yesterday to have her nipples between my lips.
"Let me see your balls." There she was with that talk again, making me crazy. Of course I pushed the vent of my briefs open more and fished my testicles out into the cool air so she could observe my sack. It was rather erotic, displaying myself like that. "Mmmm-hmmm" she muttered, evidently pleased with my equipment. Her fingers continued squeezing her tits. I could hear my own breathing.
"Can I see, uh, can you take off your panties?" I requested, feeling myself working toward climax. It's not like I had any idea of pacing, back then. If it was coming, it was coming. And, even after yesterday I still couldn't believe how unreal and erotic this whole situation was.
"So you can see my cunt, Danny?"
"Oh, Rose, I can't stand it, I--"
"Or do you prefer pussy? Which one is it? Pussy or cunt?" Damn her.
She surprised me by sliding off the counter in just those white cotton panties, and then suddenly she was right next to me and I could look down and see those wonderful breasts, inches away, and up to her pretty face with her slightly open mouth and unnerving eyes studying my straining cock. She reached out impulsively to cup my balls in her palm for just a moment, making me gasp, and then her hand was once again pulled away.
This time when she got back up on the counter Rose brought her right leg up and actually hooked her foot around the sink faucet. This brought her panty-covered pubic mound into prominence. Realizing she was about to reveal her cunt to me, my cock seemed to leap in my fist, ready to go off at any moment. Without hesitation her fingers peeled the vee of her panties to one side.
I stared openly at the soft pink mouth of her sex, nestled within its protection of curly hair. Those slick vertical lips appeared to be moist just inside, and probably were. I could clearly see the whole shape of the opening to her vagina.
The shafts of light coming through the kitchen window striped her naked body. She made no sound as she inspected my progress there at the sink. There was a look of mild anticipation on her face as I beat off in front of her. The hand that wasn't holding her panties aside left her breasts and traveled downward to idly fluff the hair through which her cunt lips peeked.
My ejaculations started before I was even aware I was coming. I sprayed as far up as the edge of the kitchen window curtains, as I remember, my mind distracted for just a millisecond with the thought that Rose would have to clean them. I may have hit her foot, too, I don't know. And then the pleasure rushed through me and I was gasping and thrusting, my cream spilling over and over into the sink. I recall that Rose studied my face intently as I jerked my heated flesh like my very life was flowing out of me. And then suddenly she was by my side, again.
"Good, good" she soothed as her left arm went around my waist and her right hand dipped down to my briefs to gently cup my balls again. I groaned at this warm touch and the feel of her left breast pressing into the right side of my back, just under my arm. I instinctively released my penis from the grip of my right hand, hoping she would take over for the last few moments of my release.
Which she did, without hesitation, milking the final drops out with firm strokes that made me groan mightily. The fluid was squeezed out of me like toothpaste by her practiced hand. In those days it was thick and white and pearlescent; I could see some of it on her index finger when she finally let go.
As I struggled to recover, my head all light and goofy, Rose ran the warm water in the sink and produced a clean cloth, from somewhere, with which to clean my dwindling organ. I could see strands of my semen swirling down the drain. Beside me, her naked body looked like something in a dream. Her nipples looked stiff and needy. I remember wanting to hold her.
"If you want to shower, go ahead" she invited, patting my behind lightly.
"Do I need to?" I turned to face her, my dick still hanging from my underwear, and raised my hands to touch her breasts. She didn't flinch, just looked at me patiently. It wasn't that I was aroused all over again, just that I wanted to touch. Part of me figured this would all end without notice and I might wait for years for another opportunity. I really couldn't help myself.
Her nipples were stiff, and if possible they may have gotten even harder as I stood there exploring her bosom. Rose simply let me do it, her hands at her sides, looking down at my fingers as I gently pinched her breast tips and then cupped that perfectly-weighted pair of globes in my palms. My mouth watered on its own.
She also didn't move, aside from parting her thighs, when I finally got around to reaching down to her puffy cunt lips. They were as wet as I'd hoped, moisture immediately meeting my fingertips as I touched a woman's vagina for the second time in twenty-four hours. Her slit was warm and alive as I ran a fingertip inside, amazed at my own audacity. I managed also to find the nub of her clit, but only dared to guess so at the time.
As I say, Rose did nothing but watch me run my hands over and into her. It was like she wanted to be my living display, my teaching aid. It was weird, but not so strange that my balls weren't now aching in protest, deep inside, as the blood again started to enter my shaft. Her thighs were conveniently apart, perfect for my adventurous fingers. For the second time I caught that lovely funk that rises from a woman's genitals when her pussy lubricates; it drifted up between us, reaching my nostrils with a powerful, remarkably arousing force.
I caressed those silken wet lips and tentatively probed the entry within, knowing that the wonderful aroma was being generated by the juices I'd discovered. Rose and I locked eyes. Hers were serenely observing mine, and god only knows what she must have seen in return.
"I guess I've underestimated your needs, Danny. Honestly, you're either every woman's dream or curse." Her voice came to me like a dream, from afar. Without having felt it happening, I suddenly realized Rose's hand had been grasping my newly-revived penis, just holding it like an old friend.
Thinking she was protesting my behavior, I told her "I can wait. Sorry I'm such a mess."
"Oh, no no. Didn't mean that. I told you you can do what you want, after all. It's not like you came over for piano lessons, is it." She smiled lightly and we both laughed a little. "I guess it should be a compliment to me that you're getting stiff all over again so quick."
"Rose, you're just so –"
"Shush. I'm sure I'm the best-ever to you, Danny. But all women have the same things, you know." Her hand hadn't left my cock. She was caressing the head gently, and I could feel leftover wetness from my glans being spread by her fingers. It made me think of her wetness, on my own fingertips.
"I think yours are nicer" I said by way of reply.
"I know what" Rose announced with a bright look. "Why don't you get a better look. Of course, I should have thought of that, you haven't really seen anything close-up. Come over to the living room." She started off in a flash, with me right behind her watching her cheeks wiggle most prettily. But before we reached the living room she told me to wait a second, disappeared into the hallway to the bedroom, then quickly returned with a generous bath towel. I remember it was an ugly shade of green.