Rose

"So, what would you like?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" She really did look confused.

"How would you like to be pleasured?" I restated it. "You do know what you like, right?"

"Yes, I do know what I like," she answered, a little indignantly. "The conversation never gets this far."

"Okay, my turn..." I told her. "What?"

"The guys I've bedded have never been interested in what I want, to be blunt," she explained, still with an attitude. "And if they'd ever asked, I wouldn't have gotten it, because they'd think I was a freak or something. So, sorry... I don't have an answer for you."

"But you do have an answer," I pointed out. "You just don't want to share it because you think I'm gonna think you're a freak."

"Well, yeah... something like that." She still had the 'tude.

"I'm not going to think you're a freak." And I meant it.

"Yeah, right..." The disbelief was obvious.

"No, seriously," I insisted. "You just worked a miracle. You can have whatever you want. Look, I don't know if you get it, but cumming too soon is hugely embarrassing. Add my belief that I only have one shot a night and you can see why I was pissed. At myself."

"The fact that you ignored all that, and got down and dirty and not only made me cum again, but swallowed! Jesus! That's only in my fantasies. So whatever kind of kink you're into, you've got it! I am sure as hell not going to get judgmental. And any guy that doesn't take the time to figure out how to pleasure you is a world-class asshole."

"Yeah? Well, I've got an unbroken string of incompetent, inconsiderate assholes. My Shepherd could do better than them. And don't think you won't be judgmental." She was not looking happy. I got the feeling I was paying dues for every one of those assholes.

"Try me," I told her. I was starting to get my Stubborn on. "So what is it you need?" She looked at me for a very long moment before she answered. Maybe she was trying to figure out if I was as good as my word.

"First of all, you've got a lot more than two cums in you," she told me. "You just need a few to lower your sensitivity. I've got the opposite problem. I have a hell of a time getting to the first orgasm. After that, I can kind of roll 'em over. But it's getting the right stimulation that's the bitch. The usual fucking won't do it."

"So what kind of stimulation do you need?"

She eyed me again for a good long while before apparently deciding to trust me.

"I need getting gone down on... and fingering... a lot. Pretty rough." She kept looking steadily at me. "I need my partner to listen to me and follow instructions. Like if I tell you to bite my clit. Or suck it real hard. I'd expect you to do it... not hesitate, not argue."

"You like to have your clit bitten?" I was, to say the least, surprised.

"Sometimes..." she drawled. "The point is, if I asked you to do it, you would. Not bite her off, I mean. Just..."

"Yeah, got it," I interrupted her. "You like it rough, but specifically rough, and that doesn't mean you're a pain slut. You want your partner to do what you tell him to do."

"Or her," she added. Okay, now she was trying to overload my poor, lascivious mind.

"Or her," I agreed, "but we're talking about me right now. So how about you get comfortable, and spread your legs, and let me see what I can do."

"You're not going to think I'm a freak..." The question was in the statement.

"You don't ridicule my hair trigger," I told her, "I don't criticize you liking it rough." She hesitated for a couple more moments, then sighed, took a big swig of water, and settled down into the bed.

She spread her legs as requested, but held her arms open, inviting me to embrace her. I wasn't about to argue. I was really getting to like cushy.

I settled in on top of her, trying to keep my weight on my elbows and knees, feeling those awesome huge boobs pushing against my chest. Her tits may have been cushions, but her nipples were rock hard with excitement. I lowered my face to her welcoming kiss and I'll be damned if the thrill that ran through me didn't make me start getting hard again. Now we were in serious miracle territory.

She was an expert in the tongue-and-tease category, and I paid attention. I had this crazy idea that maybe how she was using her tongue might be how she'd want one used on her. And all this time I was definitely inflating.

When I felt her wetness on my thighs I realized it was time to head south. But not directly. I went by way of her nipples, where I made sure to suck and lick each until I was eliciting soft moans. When both nipples were standing out impossibly more than before, and her hips were grinding against my ribs in desire, I kissed my way down to her mons and teased her with light licking.

She hadn't given me any verbal instructions, yet, so I figured I was on my own for a bit. I spread her labia and discovered she had a very nice, very swollen clit glistening in the same lubrication that covered everything else. A clit that required sucking. So I took a long lick from her anus to her clit while she moaned, "Oh, God, yesss...", then sucked that baby as deep in my mouth as I could, making the same kind of swirls around it with my tongue as she'd been doing to me.

I hit the jackpot. She thrust up into me and started to moan.

"Oh, fuck, yes! Oh, fuck, yes! Oh, God! Oh, God, a finger! Please, a finger!"

I figured that was my cue, so I inserted a finger. I kept her lips spread with my other hand so I could keep on sucking and licking her clit. In retrospect, it was a damned good move.

"Oh, God, another one!" she moaned, so I inserted another finger and started probing around. I didn't know anything about the G-spot back then, so I was just kind of poking and prodding and stroking like I was some kind of two-finger dildo.

"Oh, fuck, yes! Yes! Fuck me with your fingers! Fuck me!"

I'd say I was doing it right. I switched to a piston-like motion, coming most of the way out, then plunging in as deep as I could, keeping my fingertips pressing the walls. The more she ground against me, the faster I stroked. She was definitely cranked and my hand was making squishing sounds because of her juices.

"Another!" she cried out. "Put in another!" Her breath was getting ragged and my wrist was starting to get a little sore, but there was no way in Hell I was going to quit. I slipped in a third and she stretched easily to accommodate me. I kept up the pace to the sounds of her "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Oh, God, more!" she moaned. "You are so fucking good! And I am so fucking close! Fuck!"

I slipped in a fourth finger and again, she stretched to take me, though she was a lot tighter this time. I was fucking her all the way up to my thumb and she was screaming so loud, she grabbed a pillow to muffle her cries.

I knew she was so close, and I knew that for her, bigger was better, so I just figured Fuck It!, tucked in my thumb, and the next time she bore down on me, I pushed back. Hard.

My hand slipped in.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD! I'M CUMMINGGGG!!"

Her pussy clamped down on my wrist like she was going to sever it. Not knowing what else to do, I kept pumping. And she kept cumming.

"Oh, fuck, yes! Oh, fuck, yes! Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! Oh, fuck, cumming! Oh, God! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, cumming! Oh, God, Lenny! You are so fucking awesome!"

By the bedside alarm clock, she kept cumming like that for almost ten minutes. And the more she came, and pulsed hard on my hand, and ground her clit into my mouth, the harder I got. This was far beyond anything I had ever known and I got carried along with it. She finally started to come down and I eased up on my thrusting.

"Next time I cum," she panted, "ease your hand out..." Hey, following directions was my forte. I did as she asked and stopped messing with her clit at the same time. Once I got my hand back, she tugged on me to come back up on top of her.

I didn't mind that direction, either.

She pulled me down onto her in a ferocious hug, my beard soaking with her juices included.

"You... are amazing," she told me as she tried to catch her breath. "That's... the first time... I've cum with... a partner." She locked her legs up over my back and looked me square in the eye.

"Fuck me," she panted, "in my ass."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I mean, I heard it, and I knew what the words meant, but I couldn't believe it!

"Don't... make me... tell you... twice," she told me and I was afraid to ask what would happen if I refused. So I eased my very turgid cock up against her very lubricated rosebud and pushed.

She was a little tight to get into but that didn't last long. I felt like I'd stuck my dick in a tight velvet blast furnace. Our moans mingled as I sank home.

"A nice, steady pounding, if you would, Good Sir," she smiled.

"As you command, My Lady," I told her. "We aim to please." And I started an easy, regular rhythm. It wasn't long before I felt her building up again, and this time I knew what I was looking for. The bitch was, against all odds, so was I. I let out a moan and she picked up on it.

"Lenny, if you're going to cum, go ahead and cum in my ass," she told me. I made a mental note of it and kept trying to get her off. I figured the well had been thoroughly primed. She ought to get off easily.

In fact, her getting off is what tripped me over. For the unheard of third time that night. Her very strong anal pulsing was like putting a milking machine on me and I shot jet after jet of hot cum enema into her welcoming ass.

We were pretty wiped out when we finally fell apart.

"I don't mean to fuck and run," she told me. "But have to use the bathroom." She started moving out of the bed.

"How the fuck can you move?" I asked in awe. "You've got two minutes and I'm right behind you."

"Ooh... I like you right behind me..." she virtually purred on the way out the door.

I lay there in the dark and thought about what a strange set of coincidences had led to that moment. Then I began to think that maybe there wasn't anything coincidental about it at all. Maybe this had all been Rose's plan from the start.

Damned good plan, I thought with a smile.

I was out like a light before her two minute head start was up.

* * * * *

I woke up just before dawn with an outrageous need to piss. I eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom without realizing Rose wasn't in bed. I took a few moments to clean up before heading back, which is when I realized a light was on in the living room.

When I walked over to check it out, Rose was sitting there with a cup of coffee, reading my erotica notebook.

"This is awesome," she told me as I approached, before I could say anything. "Three orgasms already and I'm only about halfway through. You gonna publish these?"

I stood there naked and gawking, speechless. She, too, was still naked, and her hand was moving between her thighs. In the reading light, I was falling in lust. Again.

"Oh, and there's a fresh pot of coffee on the stove," she added. I nodded and turned for the kitchen.

Suitably fortified with the Elixir of Life, I returned to the living room.

"Why are you reading my notebook?" I asked as neutrally as I could.

"I was so jazzed up after that incredible sex," she told me, "that I couldn't sleep. You, sir, were completely out of it. So I came out here and started cleaning up. Then I decided coffee was needed and made a pot."

"Okay, fine..." I decided to try again. "But why are you reading my notebook?"

"I finished the cleaning and putting the dishes away, and it was too early to run the vacuum cleaner, so I needed something quiet to do. But now that you're up, my options have increased significantly."

"Yes, but..." I wasn't getting through. "Why are you reading my very personal notebook of very personal erotic stories?"

"Oh!" She finally got it. "Because it was lying on the coffee table? And I got curious?" She was phrasing her answers as questions as if waiting for me to approve each one. "And your writing is so hot, once I started, I couldn't stop?"

I sighed and sat down across from her.

"Those were never supposed to see the light of day," I told her. "If someone found out that I was writing stuff like that, I would get majorly ostracized, if not committed. My family and friends would never speak to me again."

"I would," she smiled. "I think your stories are hot. Maybe publishable. Not quite D. H. Lawrence, but close enough, in a raunchy sort of way."

"Look, Lenny, we all have kink we hide away for fear of disapproval. Hell, even guilt by association is enough. There isn't a good looking guy in this town, except you, that would be caught dead talking to me alone, in public. But they sure don't mind sticking their cocks in my cunt when the lights are off."

"Well, actually..." I was thinking I might fall in that latter category.

"You're different," she interrupted. "You paid attention to what I wanted. And besides, you haven't been in my cunt, yet. You're hung, but I'd just had your fist in my pussy and I didn't want to be too loose for you."

"Is that why you had me do you in your ass?"

"That and the fact that I really like getting sodomized," she smiled. "You're my Backdoor Man."

"Along those lines," I ventured, "why did you seduce me?"

"Because I thought I could," she smiled again. "You were horny, you had a place with privacy where you wouldn't have to be seen with me in public, I hadn't gotten laid in awhile..."

"Of course, I wasn't sure if you were going to be one of the assholes or not, but based on how you treated my idiot roommate, I thought you might be fun. So I took a chance and it paid off in spades. That was probably the best human fuck of my life."

"Best hu... do a lot of aliens, do you?" I was curious without really wanting to know.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she laughed. "Big furry aliens. How come there aren't any alien stories in here?" She wiggled the notebook at me.

"Because there's always been the chance that somebody might get their hands on my stories," I quipped, "and I didn't want them to have prima facie evidence that I was certifiably loony."

"I like your kind of loony," she told me, turning serious. "And I like how your body feels, and how you make mine feel. I'd really like to have a lot more sex with you, if you're not doing anything this weekend. Then we can go back to being acquaintances next week. Nobody has to know about this."

I knew the "this" meant spending the weekend screwing our brains out and she was offering to not have it exposed to the rest of my friends. I thought about that for a minute.

"Rose, why would I want to hide having a relationship with you?" I asked. "If somebody is so shallow that they're going to judge on appearances only, then their opinion is for shit and doesn't count. If they know you, then they're going to know there's a lot more to you than whether you're picture book pretty or not."

"Unless you're concerned about being associated with me. In which case, yeah, I can keep my distance from you, if you want. But honestly, once you get past my shitty self-image, I think I can make a moderately good boyfriend."

"I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Lenny," she told me seriously. "Not even dating in the usual sense. You're a damned good lover, and I would like to be fuck-buddies. If you're interested."

"A damned good lover!" I snorted. I think the derision was obvious. "I came thirty seconds after my cock touched your thigh."

"Yes," she nodded in agreement. "And you recovered quite nicely. Twice. We didn't even try for three, four, five and six. You don't have a premature ejaculation problem. You have a not enough orgasms problem, and I can help with that. Come on back to the bedroom and I'll show you."

"Are you serious?" Six? She was really thinking six? Holy Mother...

"Sure," she told me, standing up. "Unless you want me to fix you breakfast, first."

Okay, I'd died and gone to Heaven, which was highly improbable. The direction, that is.

"No, coffee's fine," I decided. "Lead on, Macduff."

"It's lay on, and that is precisely what I'm hoping for!" Her grin reminded me of the Cheshire Cat as she took my wrist and led me back to bed.

* * * * *

Four hours later, I was in love. Or as much in love as a blob of quivering protoplasm can be. Maybe I should say I'd fallen in lust. In any case, she'd made me cum five times and I'd lost count of how many times she got off.

The last cum had been excruciating to get to and had taken an hour and twenty minutes of steady pumping while Rose continued to writhe beneath me in wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.

"Maybe we should break for lunch," she'd suggested after my last cum. I wasn't going to disagree. My back was killing me.

She bounced out of bed all bright and cheerful and well-fucked while I slunk my way to the shower and let the hot water beat on me while I knelt on all fours in the bottom of the tub.

When she came to tell me lunch was ready, she took one look at me and asked if I needed a massage. She was rapidly developing into my version of perfect.

"Where did you learn massage?" I asked as she had me sprawled out on the bed and was reducing my aching muscles to jelly.

"At home," she told me. "I grew up on a farm, and we all had to learn a lot of things, from milking and haying, to cooking and cleaning, to vet and animal husbandry skills, and even to giving and getting massages. By age 5, we were doing chores."

"Who was 'we'?"

"My Mom and Dad, three brothers, two sisters."

"Wow... big family."

"Not for a farm," she informed me. "Now shut up, lie there and take it," she directed. "When I'm done, get something to eat."

"Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!" It seemed prudent to do as directed. She finished relieving a lot of the soreness and I went and partook of her minestrone soup and BLT club sandwiches. I think it was the first time I had bacon, lettuce, tomato, turkey, ham and cheese all on one sandwich. I've grown to enjoy them.

* * * * *

There was a lot of sex that happened that weekend. And oddly enough, a lot of romantic type cuddling. Monday morning was spent doing the sheets at the park's Laundromat and cleaning the trailer. By the time we had to head back to campus on Monday noon, we'd worked out a plan for dating "as friends" and staying balling buddies.

The biggest headache was getting the privacy. My single occupancy dorm room helped with that, but so did Rose's inventiveness when it came to secluded public places.

That woman had a devious, and adventurous, side that drove my adrenaline through the roof. I never would have thought of the catwalk in the main stage fly loft in the Theater Department, in a boat in the boathouse at Lake on Campus, under a pedestrian bridge in the middle of a downpour, in an old caboose down by the railway station or a number of classrooms after classes and before building lockup.

But the best was the old graveyard south of town, next to the State Mental Hospital. Nobody bothered us there.

We kept up our Friends-with-Benefits relationship all the way through Sophomore year, after which her parents decided she needed to go to school closer to home. We kept in touch for awhile, but eventually the phrase "this too shall pass" came to apply and we lost touch.

Until the advent of Facebook. But that's another story.

Finis.