Latina Granny Ch. 07

"Not bad. Not bad at all," he said after looking the Row Boats' house over from the outside.

"It's even nicer when you get inside. Come on in and let me show you around and introduce you to some of the Row Boats," I cooed as soon as the helmet was off and I'd shaken my hair out.

Secretly I hoped the house was empty and we would have it all to ourselves but, I had to admit that some invisible hand of mysterious good fortune must have brought Shawn and I together, for he was going to major in engineering too. He was torn for now between mechanical and chemical engineering but I assured him there was plenty of time to figure that out. Not only was I the acting Housemother, but I had now become a recruiter of new pledges too. I was certain I could mount a convincing argument with Shawn if given a few more minutes to show him absolutely everything Rho Rho Beta had to offer.

I was slowly coming down off the high from our ride but I didn't think anything was going to take the edge off my need for a well-placed and quite stiff young cock. Luckily, I knew exactly where to find one.

"You know, Febe," Shawn began after I had finished showing him the niceties of all the common areas, "I have never met a lady quite like you. I know now you're my own grandma's age but you sure aren't anything like my grandma."

"I don't make you uncomfortable, do I?" I asked.

"Oh, no - no, nothing like that. But I do feel kind of, well funny when I'm with you," he said reluctantly.

"Do you think of me as a grandmother, Shawn?" I asked, "Like your Grandma?"

"Well I'm trying to but I'm having trouble with that," he sputtered.

I smiled. "You mean you're trying to think of me as a grandmother? Have you gotten any ideas about other ways to think of me?"

I was flirting with him now but I wasn't sure he realized it. He was such a serious-minded young man. His own 'Grandma' as he called her must be a very strong - and stodgy influence on his life. I didn't want to be his grandmother. I wanted to be that saucy middle-aged Spanish teacher who teaches him how to kiss a woman properly and curse in Spanish with a marksman's wicked skill.

I was well past middle-age but I certainly wanted the opportunity to show him a thing or two about both kissing and cursing if he'd let me.

"Do you find me attractive, Shawn?"

"You bet I do!" he almost shouted.

Obviously he was a red-blooded young man. I didn't have to worry about the same difficulties I'd had with Professor Harper here.

"What do you find attractive about me?" I asked quietly, smiling at his enthusiastic response.

"Oh, just everything!" he began and then after a moment to think the question over, he rushed headlong into it, "Your legs! Do you always wear stockings? I love them - and I love those heels. I was afraid you might not ride in those heels but you did! And I loved the way you felt when you pressed your body against me on our ride. I thought I was going to lose it a couple of times!"

This was my kind of answer. Nothing does my heart more good than hearing I'm having a positive impact on young men. Apparently I had aroused Shawn's interest. I had to work on that sticky little comparison he was drawing between his grandmother and me, though. I wasn't going to stand for being a surrogate for his own grandmother in some sort of kinky little incest drama. If he came back to my room with me I wanted it to be because I, Febe made his dick stiff and his knees weak.

I wasn't quite certain where to begin responding to all his enthusiasm. Finally I decided I'd better find out if he still harbored even the slightest 'grandmotherly' thoughts about me.

"That doesn't sound like a very proper way to think about your grandmother, Shawn. Is that how you think about your own grandmother?" I challenged him.

Very quickly Shawn fired back at me, "No, no, no, not at all! I only meant before that you're nothing like my Grandma! Nothing like her! . . . And boy, am I glad about that."

He was still so excited and didn't seem able to speak now without getting more excited. He was fairly jittering and pulsing with nervous energy. He was performing like his new motorcycle when I first climbed on it and I liked that feeling.

I wasn't finished tormenting him yet so I asked, "So . . . you don't think your grandma has legs like mine? Does she wear stockings like mine?"

"I don't care about my Grandma's legs! I'm crazy about your legs, Febe! I don't even think of you as being my grandma's age. Dammit, I think you're a MILF!" he almost shouted.

Am I the last person in the world to find out what a MILF is? Even this naïve young man knew all about MILFs. Aha! But did he know about GILFS?

"A MILF, huh? I'll have you know I am a GILF and I take great pride in it," I countered.

"A GILF?" he repeated, puzzled.

His brow furrowed and I could see the wheels turning in his head until finally his eyes lit up, "A GILF. Definitely! Sure! And you should be proud of that."

Oh, I was proud alright. And it was always rewarding for me when I could teach the young. I had just added a new word to Shawn's vocabulary and I think I was already helping to broaden his view of the world. My attempt to persuade Peter's professor may not have been a success but getting out in the world this morning was paying some other, perhaps bigger dividends.

Shawn grew serious then and got a look on his face that I couldn't read. I didn't know if he was angry or just had something on his mind. It turns out he had something on his mind.

"Febe," he began, "What was I feeling as we started back to town? You were pressed against me so tight and I felt like it was flesh on flesh. You had your legs raised up really high under my arms too."

I blushed. He certainly knew how to turn the tables on me and I wasn't sure how to answer.

"Well," I said, reluctant to explain, "It was all so much fun and so exciting and well . . . when your jacket and shirt rode up I sort of helped them ride up a little more."

Shawn wasn't satisfied with my answer and pressed me, "But what was I feeling? What was that sliding up and down the small of my back?"

He had me. There was no way to politely tell him how wicked and selfish I had been.

"That was my pussy Shawn! My pussy! I was so um - aroused being pressed up against you and riding that wonderful motorcycle of yours that I didn't think you'd mind. My pussy got a mind of its own and I couldn't stop it!"

I hoped he would buy that. I know I didn't. The honest truth was that I was horny. I needed his young cock. I needed it more than ever now.

"Febe!" he said in shock, "Are you going commando?"

Damn! Even this innocent young freshman knew what a commando was. Was I the most naïve grandmother on the planet? How did he know this and I hadn't until five weeks ago?

I mustered my courage and told him, "You know what they say about going commando. A commando is ready for anything." I smiled big for him just to let him know I believed it.

"And you're ready?" he asked, then after a pause, added, "I mean, for anything?"

Actions speak louder than words. I grabbed his hand and pulled him roughly after me through the kitchen to my room. Once inside I climbed that boy like a cherry tree. Our lips met and I kissed him. My tongue went searching for his tonsils.

I pulled away from him, breathless and asked, "Wanna see my commando pussy?"

I dropped my skirt before he could even think about answering.

"Wow! That is what I call commando!" he growled out at the sight of my smooth belly with its ready-made landing strip.

"Don't act so surprised, Shawn. I've already rubbed it all over your backside," I told him.

"Are you going to rub it all over my frontside now?" he asked, braver now that he was staring at my ready-made little slip'n slide like a crazed young maniac.

"Lay down on the bed, young man. I have some work to do first," I commanded.

He did as he was told. In the meantime I unbuttoned my blouse, slipped it off and then went straight to work on his trousers. I had his pants and briefs down around his ankles in no time. I discovered he had a lovely cock and judging from the way it stared back at me, I had Shawn's full attention.

I reached for my trusty bottle of lube on the nightstand and prepared to dress Shawn's tool for a little exploring in my newly opened amusement park.

"Please, Febe," Shawn interrupted me, "Could you take your bra off? I just know you have amazing tits too! They felt so good when you pressed them into my back on our ride."

I had been in a hurry and had forgotten all about the bra. I set the lube down, reached behind me and unhooked my bra, letting it fall away from by boobs slowly before pitching it on the floor.

Shawn stared at them and said, "O-o-o-o-h Febe! You don't have any tan lines! Amazing!"

I would have gladly explained how I came by my all-over tan and how all six young men in the house had helped, but I had another, quite pressing matter to attend to. I squirted oil into my palm, rubbed both palms together to warm the oil and went to work on his virgin cock. His erection was so hot it almost burned my hands. I stroked it and it grew even bigger and harder.

"Shawn -," I began, wondering out loud about something concerning motorcycles like his, "Do they have a nickname for motorcycles like yours? What do people call them?"

Shawn stared at me. That was understandable, considering I was pulling slowly, tenderly on his well-oiled pole now and I'm sure he had other, quite important things on his mind in the heat of the moment. I began to unbutton his shirt with one hand. It seemed only fair since he had asked me to remove mine. I pushed his shirt and jacket out of the way and drew my hand in big circles over his almost hairless, smooth chest.

I crawled up on top of him, my legs straddling his, my stockinged knees folded and resting against his hips. My pussy hovered just above and out of reach from his oil-slickened spike. Shawn cupped my breasts in his trembling young hands.

"Oh, wow!" he gasped and his face grew flushed but he did not smile. He began to knead and twist my nipples like they were the knobs on a radio, though Shawn was too young to know anything about radios with knobs.

That should have served as my warning, but I was aroused too and ignored the signals. I grasped his upright cock and tipped it up toward my waiting, eager pussy.

"You don't speak Spanish, do you, Shawn?" I asked. I just knew that in a moment I would be screeching out the foulest abuses at his beloved grandma in my native tongue and I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"No," he replied with a quizzical look.

"Good! Let's see if this fits the way I hope it does," I told my young motorcyclist and slipped the throbbing purple head of it between my cunt lips. I drew it over my stiffening clit and then down once more until it was lodged securely in my opening.

"Oh, wow!" he gasped again. This time his face was redder, his breathing more labored.

We were both ready. I settled like a mother hen in his lap. His oiled manhood slipped deep inside me, filling me, stretching me immediately. I had needed this from the moment my pussy had gotten crushed into Shawn's back on our ride. I let out a sharp little howl, squirmed my bottom against his belly and ended my little introduction with a giggle.

"Welcome to my pussy!" I announced, breathlessly.

I looked in Shawn's eyes and just knew he was already on the verge of cumming but there was nothing I could do to prevent it now. I decided it would simply be best to ride this one out. After all, he was eighteen. Give him ten minutes to recover and with the proper encouragement from me, I could be back in the saddle once more.

"Oh-h-h-h-h!" he gasped in a panic and began to buck.

I did my best to grind my hot pussy over his cock and stay in the saddle. I've become a good bronc rider in the past weeks and was sure I could handle this youngster. He was filled with crazed enthusiasm but I was certain I could anticipate his moves. His sap geysered up inside of me and made me lightheaded. This was no substitute for a lovey-gushy, no-holds-barred orgasm but it was at least an exciting start. I clung to Shawn and would not let him throw me.

I was determined to hear bells ringing. Shawn and his hot motorcycle had started something with me and he was going to finish it. Suddenly it came to me! I knew that there was a term for motorcycles like Shawn's and now I remembered it.

"Crotch rocket!" I called out, proud of myself for remembering.

I looked down at Shawn and he was staring at me with hurt in his eyes. With a start, I realized he thought I was talking about his sudden launch and not his motorcycle. Well, there probably was something Freudian in the way I remembered about crotch rockets and his ill-timed blastoff but I had intended no disrespect. Lord knows I was no stranger to the 'early lift-off' problem. Young men are quite excitable and I must confess, I seem to excite young men a great deal. I have however, become adept at helping them pace themselves, manage their 'delivery' and appreciate the benefits of delivering their payloads at just the right time. Shawn just needed a little encouragement and some pointers. My steaming, quivering pussy just thought he needed lots more practice.

His speedy first delivery might even be a blessing for us both, I thought. Now we could have a minute to talk. I could tell him how much I needed him and how much more he could do for me and for himself if he focused a bit more on my needs and how much more fulfilling it would be for us both if we worked together on this thing called lust.

"Oh, Shawn. I'm sorry. I hope you didn't think that was about you. I just remembered what I had heard motorcycles like yours called. It came to me all of a sudden," I explained. I still held his cock trapped inside me, though it was beginning to wither.

"Didn't you enjoy that?" he asked, a surprised expression on his young face.

Shawn was suffering from the youthful misconception that if he had enjoyed himself, then I had enjoyed myself. The real truth in this matter was simply that Shawn didn't even know yet what real pleasure involved.

"Oh, silly!" I purred while stroking his lovely young chest with both hands, "This was a nice beginning but we need to work on a lot of things to make this an enjoyable achievement for us both. I'll bet that was the first time you ever came inside a woman. Am I right?"

He nodded and I continued.

"This can be so much more fun and enjoyable than you can ever imagine right now. I got a real jolt out of knowing this was your first experience with a woman. I didn't feel the earth move though, honey. Just because you're eighteen and it took you three strokes inside me to explode doesn't mean I felt the same explosion. We're going work up to my big 'O'," I explained.

He smiled timidly and asked, "So - we're not finished?"

"Not by a long shot!"

I paused to let that sink in, then carefully filled both his hands with my breasts and asked him coyly, "You do want to give me an orgasm, don't you, honey? You do want make me scream and get a little bit crazy, don't you?"

I never stopped stroking his chest. In fact, I had quietly begun rolling my hips softly over his belly. Thank goodness for eighteen-year-olds and their resilience! I was already getting results and I don't think Shawn even realized it yet. His young cock was swelling inside me and it felt so good and so right.

"I'll bet you have never played with a woman's pussy either. Have you?" I asked.

This time he was able to answer with more than a nod. He seemed to have recovered from the hurt of my 'crotch rocket' remark as well. "No. Never," he answered anxiously, "Do you want me to play with yours?"

"Definitely! But first I want to show you how," I told him. His young cock had almost gathered another full head of steam. I gauged this lovely fact by the way he was filling me. He was squeezing all that sweet first load out of me. It was running out in little gobs now.

"You do know you've made me hard again," Shawn blurted out. I think the sudden upsurge in his erection surprised him.

"Did I do this?" I asked, feigning surprise, "I thought eighteen-year-old men were hard as steel all the time." I rolled my bottom slowly against him to make sure he could feel my tightness and wetness and added, "Mmm . . . You feel so good inside me when you're hard!"

I lifted my pussy off of him quite unceremoniously then, lay down beside him and announced with a playful grin, "You need to get better acquainted with my sweet spot."

What followed for the next two-plus hours was part lesson, part practice and all pleasure for us both. Shawn happily discovered that even grandmothers adore having their clits stroked and the lips of their pussies gently pinched and kneaded. He seemed to relish the way I groaned softly and rolled my hips against his hand as he taunted me and sent me careening over the edge with just his hand.

He had never shoved his sausage into a lover's mouth either. We corrected that in short order and then went on to improve his all-around appreciation for the female orgasm. Shawn proved to be a very bright and ever so willing student. Once he made friends with my pussy, discovered the things that she appreciated and just how enthusiastically she responded, he devoted great effort to pleasing her with all sorts of enthusiasm. I spent our last hour together in seventh heaven.

I lost track of how many times I came. I lost track of how many times Shawn came but somewhere near the end of our time together he managed to mount me and slowly drive me crazy with a nasty string of orgasms that left me sweaty, breathless and cursing in Spanish like a Tijuana whore. The ferocious way I was screaming and cursing shocked Shawn as he stroked away for several minutes between my upraised legs, but it certainly didn't stop him from treating my sweet little honey blossom like his own personal property.

We were both sweat and cum-covered messes before we were done for the afternoon. I sent him off to shower by himself (I just knew we would use all the hot water in the house if I showered with him) and then helped him dress to leave.

"I sure wish you'd tell me what you were saying in Spanish, Febe. You kept screeching 'tu abuela' but I don't know what that means," he told me as we moved out into the driveway and he made ready to leave.

"Trust me, Shawn - you don't want to know," was all I could say. There was no way in the world I would tell him that in the heat of those long, delicious moments I had called his grandmother some most unsavory names and accused her of several depraved sex acts involving some large vegetables and possibly a male horse or two.

Once I had Shawn screaming up the road on that wonderful crotch rocket of his I turned my attention to my Row Boats once more. Tomorrow would be our last day together and tomorrow night would be the night I had promised to say goodbye to them all. I think we were all getting a little keyed-up over our goodbyes tomorrow night. I had already taken a few steps that I hoped would make the night special for them.