Rose Schools Me

Sometimes sex seems driven by beauty. Sometimes (according to conventional wisdom, the best times) it is inspired by love. But sometimes, it is just spawned from a raw, desperate, crying need. That's how it was for Rose and me.

I grew up on Long Island, and the couple next door were an empty-nester Italian couple. Being only 18 myself, they seemed ancient, but now I realize they were no more than 60. Their kids ranged from 25 to almost 40, and I think all of them still lived within 30 minutes of their childhood home, still on Long Island. I know that Rose and Sal were also grandparents a couple of times over. Every once in a while, in the Summer, they'd have a huge family cookout in their backyard. One of their daughters, in her early 30s I suppose, was about the hottest looking woman I'd ever seen: about 5'5" tall, with dark, smoldering eyes and long, straight black hair, which hung to the middle of her back. Annette was her name. But, unfortunately, this story is not about her.

Rose was a dark haired rotund woman, just about five feet tall. She had nothing in particular to set her apart from thousands of other Italian-American moms and grandmas living on Long Island at the time ... except that she had those same smoldering dark brown eyes that she'd passed along to her daughter. I often tried to picture Rose as she would have looked at Annette's age. It was pretty clear, still, from looking at our matronly neighbor's face, that she'd been a real "looker" back in the day. But too much good Italian cooking had taken a toll on Rose's body. She was probably about 160 pounds, which is a bit chubby for a lady of her height. But the way she looked at me sometimes ...

Oh, me? I'm Dave, and I was a lanky 12th grader in the local high school. I had a mop of dark brown hair and very fair skin. A virgin, still, and horny all the time. I was probably about 5'11" at the time I first entered her house, just reaching my adult height. So, anyway, I was close to a foot taller than Rose, and so she would often ask me to come over and grab her down some ingredient or another from her top pantry shelf. The woman cooked ALL the time! The smells when I would go into her house to help her reach something were amazing. She could have cooked at any of the local restaurants and done quite well, I'm sure. This started near the end of my Sophomore year. Rose and I struck up something of a friendship. Over the next two years, I got to be a regular visitor in Rose and Sal's Long Island home.

I used to wonder, though, why she put some of her commonly used ingredients on the highest pantry shelf, so I didn't have to keep coming over. It didn't make sense to me until one day when things took a different turn. Probably about the eighth or tenth time she had me over to get something down from her pantry shelf after I'd turned 18, I was just reaching up to grab a jar of pasta when she grabbed my butt with both hands. I turned around, startled, and she immediately pulled one of her large breasts out of the top of her housedress. She was not wearing a bra. The breast looked big and soft, with chunky, erect brown nipples. She pulled out the other huge melon, and looked at me with those smoldering eyes, and said,

"You like?"

As a matter of fact, I "liked" very much!

"Wow ... you're ... breasts are gorgeous!" I said, trembling.

"C'mon down, David. The pasta can wait."

She took me by the hand and led me into her and Sal's bedroom. I was starting to get terrified. Sal was a tough old bird, a cigar-chomping old guy who was wiry and looked like he knew 25 ways to kill you just with his thumb. In spite of the cooking smells with usually pervaded the household, a background odor of Sal's stogies was always present too. It made him seem somehow present, as if he were watching us.

"But, what about your husband?" I murmured as we broke the plane of the doorway to the Master Bedroom.

"Sal is at the racetrack ... as always. "And this old mare needs something he can't give me. But, you can!"

She flopped down on the large bed and pulled up her dress. She was not wearing any underpants at all, and I could see her patch of black pussy hair and her glistening labia. I could also see her belly, which was large and pale. Looking back, I sometimes wonder why I was not more put off by that, by her fatness. I mean, she was not my "type", body-wise, like her daughter was. But then I remember that at age 18 I had to wank at least 4 times a day just to keep up with the crazy semen production of a puberty spent in a public school where the mini-skirt was still in vogue. So, when Rose pulled up her dress and showed me her goodies, I was hard in an instant. She started playing with herself, and soon she had her clit worked up into a frenzy. It was protruded nearly three-fourths of an inch. I was transfixed. I hadn't even seen much porn. Back this long ago, you used your imagination, or the undergarment section of the Sears catalog for porn. I was too young to buy it in any store. So when Rose pulled her dress up and started masturbating, well it was a revelation to me.

"Pull your pants down, David. Underpants, too!" Rose commanded. Her eyes had an evil, mischievous look that pulled me in, that made me want whatever Rose wanted. I complied, pulling my Levi's jeans down to my ankles and then my white underwear. My cock was already hard. It didn't take much at all in those days. Rose looked pleased.

"Stroke it till it's all the way hard!" she urged. Again, I complied. My cock also quickly complied. It excited me to see her playing with herself. When Rose saw that I was hard, she spoke again:

"Good! I was hoping for a nice long one!" I am about nine inches, now as then.

"Well, let's see what it can do, David! Put it in me!"

I didn't need to be asked twice. Rose grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs way back, giving me easy access to her elderly pussy. I was truly amazed at how limber she was. I pushed my throbbing cock head into her mature slit and started pumping. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

"That's it, David, FUCK me! Really fuck me! Harder!" she exhorted. I did my best not to let her down. Within about 25 seconds, I was on the verge of cumming. Rose cried out again:

"Oh, shit. Dick me daddy, lay that fucking pipe!"

That gave me pause, and her odd words made me engage the rational part of my brain. This apparently required some of the blood that was engorging my cock, and for a moment I was safe from cumming. I didn't go soft, but I was wrestling with why she would call me "daddy" of all things. Maybe nephew, or son, or grandson might have been appropriate. But I soon left off thinking about this and started thinking again how good it felt to thrust my long cock in and out of my elderly neighbor's fat pussy. It was amazing. I never wanted it to end. But when she seemed convulsed by uncontrollable waves of pleasure, she gripped me tighter, and I knew I was about to blow a big load inside this hot old woman. It was intense. I finally pulled out of her after catching my breath, and she let go of her legs, and we both collapsed on top of the bed, which was still made. I could see a gob of my semen oozing out from her pussy lips. We kept silence for three or four minutes. Finally, Rose broke it.

"So, how did you like that, David? Every do that before?"

"Umm ... no. That was my first time."

"Just remember, there's more where that came from, and I can teach you a lot of tricks you don't know yet. I can teach you to be a better lover for when you have a girlfriend."

"What kind of tricks?" I asked.

In answer, Rose sat up and then leaned over my flaccid cock. She took it gently into her mouth, sucking and licking it tenderly, and then sucking more aggressively as it started to become hard. Soon it was completely rigid again, and she was taking my cock deep into her mature mouth. She looked up at me with those naughty, dark eyes, and then kept sucking me.

"I like this trick!" I told her. She stopped sucking but deftly started stroking my erect cock with her right hand, just long enough to answer.

"Figured you would," she grinned. And then, she was right back down on me, sucking and slurping until more ropes of semen shot into her mouth. When I had stopped spurting, she opened her mouth wide to show me the cum on her tongue. Then, she swallowed it and gave me another big grin.

"You and me are going to be great pals, David. I'm just too short to keep reaching those upper shelves in my pantry ... so I'm going to need you often. Most likely every day.

I was too stunned to answer. But it was perfect. Because I was very sexually needy, too. And Rose met my needs in a most marvelous way.

Sometimes the sex that comes from a raw, desperate, crying need ... is the best sex. It was for me and Rose. In retrospect, Rose taught me a few important lessons. But probably the greatest one was not to judge a book by it's cover. Had I seen a woman who looked exactly like Rose in one of the shopping malls, before that fateful day, I would have never given her a second look. I'd have assumed her to be basically asexual. How wrong I was. Anyone can have raging passion. And, based on my experience with Rose, my mature neighbor lady, raging passion may be better than just plain good looks. Better, maybe, than anything.