Open House

He couldn't hold out any longer, pushing the small panties to the side, just far enough to allow him access to the hot wet folds. She groaned, "Que Rica!" again – just the second time in his life that he heard that expression, and both times in the same day - as she pressed back against him. "Yes!" After years of primarily fucking his dry hand, this was such a departure that he feared that he couldn't hold out very long.

Slowly he slid in and out, pausing inside of her with each thrust. Leaning into her now, a bead of sweat dropped onto the back of her neck, and he bent lower to kiss her there. Tasting the salty perspiration and hearing her deep breaths brought out the animal in him, and he instinctively thrust even harder, his cock fully inside of her now.

Thinking he couldn't go any deeper, he felt her bucking back against him, as she demanded, "Fuck me! Fuck this tight pussy!" All the while, her hand continued to work inside her bunched up panties, occasionally feeling his drenched dick sliding in and out, but always returning to toy with her clit. Kissing her ear, then her cheek, he balanced himself against her and gently stroked her hair – the tenderness in stark contrast to the savage pounding that was taking place between her legs.

Suddenly, her hand reached behind her to push him away. Confused, he stepped back as she peeled herself off the glider, turned and sat back down, now facing him. Reaching back down, her hand again found her matted mound under her stretched moist panties and continued to work. Looking into his eyes through the darkness, she pleaded, "Watch me? Show me?"

Pants still bunched around his ankles, he pulled the slick condom off and, using both hands, worked his cock while rubbing his balls as he enjoyed the view directly in front of him. Once again, as in the master bedroom earlier that day, they enjoyed themselves as they played separately. As his stroking picked up, so did her finger movements under the panties. Lifting her butt up from the glider, she pulsed against her hand, her eyes fluttered closed as she again bit her lip.

He couldn't hold out much longer, and with a hoarse whisper, she said, "Cum on me?" - as much a question as it was a command. With that and one more thrust against his hand, he unloaded for a second time in front of her, spewing hot cum across the front of her panties, with a few drops even reaching her tummy just above the now-stretched waistband. Exhausted, he slowly pulled on his spent dick, still half-erect, as her finger traced lightly through the cummy deposit on her stomach. Eyes meeting, both said in unison, "wow!" and giggled like teenagers at the timing.

"So does this mean you're not going to murder me?" he asked kiddingly.

She didn't answer, instead lying there, looking almost through him as though he wasn't there. Gone was the sexy, easy-going woman that he thought he knew intimately, suddenly replaced with a sterile, almost lifeless mannequin blankly staring ahead. Slowly Rosa's left hand dropped to the side of the glider. In the darkness, with only the flickering light of the small candle, Bob felt a rush of adrenaline as he envisioned a knife – or worse yet – a gun being retrieved. God, was he going to die out here, mere minutes from enjoying the most incredible sexual experience of his life? Quickly pulling his pants up, he fumbled with his zipper, wondering what in the hell he had gotten himself into. Seconds later, the "old" Rosa broke out of her phony trance with a laugh.

She smiled in the darkness, quietly saying, "Scared you, huh?"

Relieved but still traumatized by his overactive imagination and the thought of a painful and embarrassing death, Bob just managed a nervous smile, thanked her and backed down the stairs, never taking his eyes from hers as he found his way to the car, praying yet again that it would start. Cranking the ignition, he was relieved to hear the familiar sound of the engine. Taking his eyes off her for a second, he backed the car up. Glancing at the porch as he straightened the car, he waved half-heartedly before gunning the engine and speeding down the gravel driveway.

Passing by the "For Sale" sign lying face down in the thick weeds, he turned onto the public road, wondering if he overreacted. From the porch of the vacant home, Rosa watched the dust rise behind the escaping car before blowing out the candle and bending down, fumbling in the darkness to retrieve the pruning shears from beneath the glider, physically satisfied yet emotionally unfulfilled and alone once again.