mature xxx

“Glen, come upstairs after we close, please. I need to talk to you,” said Rosemary – under her breath, yet pointedly – as she passed behind me. She was the second-in-command, behind the owner, of the drug store where I worked to support myself as a 20-year-old, pre-med, sophomore college student in the mid 1960s.

What could she possibly want? I wondered, as I locked the front door behind the late-shift pharmacist after he left for home. Shutting off the outside lights at 10 p.m., I swept the floor and emptied the day’s trash into the dumpster behind the store, locked the delivery car inside the back gate, and went upstairs to Rosemary’s office, where she was counting the day’s receipts.

“Wait a few minutes,” she said, brusquely, as she completed a tally from a cash drawer. I stood a few feet away, unbuttoning my pharmacist’s smock from my neck and down one shoulder, and wanted desperately to sit down. My days were full: 8 a.m. classes ’til one, a quick bite for lunch, at the drug store by two and working ’til ten – with a snack on the run – then a sandwich over the books until I fell asleep at 2 or 3 a.m. That schedule was repeated consistently, six days a week.

Rosemary finished counting the receipts and turned to look up at me from her swivel chair. Her gaze swept from my face to my toes, making me uncomfortable since she was wearing the sardonic half smile that she’d used so often to intimidate employees. “Did you lock up?” she asked, looking through the window in the upstairs wall that afforded her a view of the entire store and the adjoining pharmacy below.

“Yes, and swept as well,” I responded.

“Good. Then, turn off the inside lights.” I moved to the upstairs bank of switches to do as she’d ordered, and walked back to her desk, standing over her, perhaps more closely than I should have. I looked down at her small, shapely form – her luscious, curvy legs crossed under a tight, black skirt, with a snug, multi-colored silk blouse tucked into it – and knew that I was frightened of this woman. Not only was she a tough boss who ran the retail operation like a top sergeant – the other employees called her the ice woman – but she was gorgeous…and she wielded her beauty like a rapier when dealing with men.

We all wore pharmacy whites in the store, men in half-sleeved smocks and women in lab coats. But unlike the other female employees, only Rosemary wore her lab coat open, which exposed her generous C-cup bosom and full, scrumptious thighs under tight skirts or dresses. Each day she’d put on a freshly starched white garment, and would turn the collar up, making her look saucy and impudent as compared with the other women. She was no more than 5′2″ tall, maybe 34-22-34, and her flawless oval, Irish face was framed by short, gently curled, black hair with eyebrows of the same color. Her creamy, ivory complexion was always made up beautifully, as were her riveting blue eyes, which now looked up at me with more than a hint of knowledge that she could make me squirm and do anything she wished. Though in her mid-thirties, I estimated, and childless, I could only imagine the power that she must’ve exercised over her husband, a firefighter who had the reputation of being a blustering jerk.

“I saw what happened last week…downstairs…with Barbara,” she said. I watched her full lips, darkened with a near-burgundy lipstick, contemptuously form the name “Barbara,” who was the boss’s tall, lissome, longhaired blonde wife. Occasionally, Barbara would spend a half-day in the store to help out in the pharmacy.

“Oh? What happened?” I asked, trying to appear innocent.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” she flared. “You were taking inventory back in the pharmacy, and she stepped around one of the shelves to fasten her nylons. You got an eyeful of her under her skirt. You blushed…she gushed, and then she backed you into a corner, touching you all over and apologizing, as if it’d been her fault. Gawd, it was sickening!”

I remembered the incident. I also knew that Barbara liked me. But, I thought it was because she wanted me to date her teenage daughter, Sandy, her child with the big boss, Bob, whose father had started the business as a pharmacist a generation before. I knew Bob respected me as a hard worker, and was mentoring me, urging me to attend pharmaceutical courses in conjunction with my pre-med classes. Regardless, I’d put the memory of Barbara’s soft, milky white thighs in perspective, after I’d memorized the image of her fastening a stocking to her garter belt over a pair of wispy, lace panties. I had a rich sensual imagination but, after all, I knew my place.

“It was an accident,” I mumbled, backing away, since Rosemary had stood up to demonstrate body language that was decidedly threatening.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid!” she hissed. “I’ve seen your kind before, a poor boy weaseling into a rich family. Just ’cause you’re gonna be a doctor doesn’t wash the crap off your boots! I don’t care if Barbara wants to nail you…or have you screw her baby daughter. You’re not in their class! You know why we call her Santa Barbara? ‘Cause that’s the name of that big apartment complex they own north of town! You’re not gonna pollute that blood line…not on my watch!” she trilled, her breasts heaving in what I thought was excessive anger.

I was speechless, and my pulse was over 100 beats a minute. Part of this might have been because I was on time-release Dexedrine – diet pills – just to stay awake, given my demanding schedule. But I needed this job, so I absorbed Rosemary’s invective. I raised my arms in a helpless, submissive pose and started to turn away, trying to avoid more of the same.

“Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you!” she spat, grabbing me firmly by the sleeve. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Teenage memories of my mother being a screeching, abusive harridan flashed in my memory. I was also tired and hungry. I wanted to go home, have a sandwich, then study, study, study. The last thing I needed was this woman’s authoritarian mistreatment. My nostrils flared and I wheeled back toward her. Her eyes narrowed with a glint, sensing my sudden anger at her restraining touch, then they softened and she took one step backward. “What are you, six-foot-two? 185?”

I nodded.

“Well…you’re a disturbing influence…I mean…on the women here. Arlene’s okay, since you’ve been out with her daughter and I heard that you showed her…uhh…a good time. But, Kay! She’s pushing fifty and she acts like a schoolgirl around you!”

Arlene! I thought. That poor, neglected woman! Cute, with high energy, in her late thirties, not getting enough at home, she’d taken to applying leg makeup to the bruises on her calves after we’d “worked late” several nights in my old Chevy when her husband had been working or was out of town. A few weeks later, her slutty teenage daughter, Dawn, had been just as horny…every bit as physically demanding…who now periodically dropped by the store, wanting me to drive her home and grapple with me on the same backseat that I’d entertained her mother.

And Kay! Sweet, lonely, heavy-limbed Kay, an expert at fellatio, who’d worshipped me from her knees as if I’d been a young Prince, many times in the back room. All of these prurient images made me feel suddenly guilty. But, what was a young, vital guy to do? “Rosemary…I’m sorry. I just want to work…and study. Uhh…can I sit down?”

“Grab a seat.” She seemed to soften, sitting down across from me in her chair as I collapsed onto one nearby. “Look. My job is to run this place. I want you to stay away from the boss’s family. With the other women, use these,” she said, pulling a box of a dozen condoms from a desk drawer. “Even on prescription deliveries…I don’t want Bob getting sued ’cause his boy wonder has gotten one of our female customer’s pants full.”

I took the box of rubbers and asked, “Is that all, Rosemary? I’ve gotta get home and hit the books.”

She dismissed me and I drove home slowly. She was right. I was poor…financially strapped. I’d wasted two of my three years in high school, having devoted them to girls, but in my senior year I’d seen the light and pulled a 4.0 average, which had gotten me into the university. My parents could’ve helped me, but their conditions had been too strict. So, without a scholarship, I needed to work to support myself, which meant I had no social life. Sex, then, had become brief, furtive assignations with several unlikely women. Lonely or damaged women, mostly.

A high school acquaintance who’d gotten pregnant by someone other than me spent a few nights at my apartment, until I’d sent her and her infant child back to her suffering parents. Another high school girlfriend, who’d married too soon after high school, divorced after a few months and spent weeks with me until she, too, was sent packing in favor of my education. Most recently, there had been the women at work, and one of their daughters. Sexual loneliness, then – interrupted by bouts of furtive passion – was my lifestyle. I relieved the resultant tension on the night of Rosemary’s chewing out by jerking off in the shower.

A few days later I was preparing to deliver prescriptions to customers. Before leaving, Rosemary dropped another one in the basket, saying, “This one just came in…for Ms. Thompson. Deliver it last, then take an hour or two for a dinner break. You’ve worked your ass off today and deserve it.”

I looked at her, puzzled, since her kindness was out of the ordinary, and said, “I’ll take a book along, so I can read while I eat.” That was something I did regularly.

“Whatever you say, Glen,” she murmured. I could’ve sworn that her eyes seemed soft, kind and understanding.

The deliveries went quickly and, as I approached Ms. Thompson’s front door, I was looking forward to as much as two hours of my own time. The door was open as I rang, I announced myself, and a pleasant female voice behind the outer screen door said, “Please come in. I have to get my purse.” I walked in and my eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing a neat, modern apartment, with a grand piano in one corner. I stood just inside, being cautious enough not to venture further, and in a moment a very attractive, chestnut-haired woman in her mid-thirties came from another room. Barefoot, she was about 5′7″, and dressed only in a long robe…a black, silky thing with flowery characters on it. Her voluptuous body looked like fine, contrasting alabaster. “That was a fast delivery. What’s the total?”

“$19.95, ma’am,” I responded.

“Here’s twenty…keep the nickel,” she giggled, and reached down to pick up a glass of red wine from a side table and appraise me with deep green – almost feline – eyes, as she drank half of its contents. “Want some wine for a tip…while you’re here?” she asked, still holding her glass close to her lips and watching me while she scratched the curvy ankle of one bare leg with the toenail of the other.

I broke a cardinal rule by accepting the drink, but figured that a two-hour break would eradicate any trace of alcohol. “Sure,” I said. “Can’t stay long, though,” as I followed her beckoning fingers into her kitchen. Her hips twitched at me from under her robe as she led me deeper into the apartment. The kitchen radio was playing some soothing, classical music.

“My pills – Clozanepam – are for nervous seizures. I ran out of ‘em so had to have some wine instead. Now that you’re here, I’m glad I did,” she said suggestively, raking her wavy, shoulder length hair back from a smooth, pale cheek. She’d leaned back against the kitchen sink and a flawless, peaches-and-cream thigh now split the front of her robe. Her eyes watched mine drop to her appetizing flesh.

“Are…uhh…do you play the piano?” I asked nervously, gesturing with my head toward the instrument in the living room.

“Mmm…I teach piano. Cancelled my classes for the day, though, ’cause I’m not feeling well. A little more wine…maybe a nap…and I’ll be as good as new. D’you play?”

“Nah. Took some lessons as a kid, but never followed up.”

“You should have. You’ve got the hands for it. Large…strong…long fingers,” she said, finishing her glass. Then she shivered, visibly. “Mmm…I’m a little shaky. S’more wine. Could you open this?” she asked, sliding an unopened bottle and corkscrew toward me on the sink board.

“Sure, but then I’ll have to leave.” I uncorked it and she slid both of our glasses to me, touching my hip with her crotch. My heartbeat spiked as I felt her body’s heat through my pants. I poured her glass half full and put down the bottle.

“See!…so strong!” she said, grabbing my hand in hers and kneading between my fingers. Then she suddenly pulled my hand to one of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the firm swelling under her robe filled my palm. For several moments we just looked at one another, as her nipple grew hard. “Mmm…that feels nice,” she murmured, as my gaze fixed on her jugular, excitedly pumping blood to her brain. “Sooo…nice,” she repeated, as her robe was now somehow open and two magnificent, firm, breasts poked out, their pink nipples pouting excitedly up at me.

She had both of my hands now, and was stroking herself with them, up, down and around her tits, then lower – spanning her soft, white belly – to her full, auburn bush, which caused her to tremble and gasp. “Miz Thompson…I…I really have to go. I’m…uhh…work…ing,” I stuttered.

“Nnn…nooo…you can’t…nowww!” she whined, and swiped one of my fingers up her sopping slit. Her labia were greasy with her thick juices and she leaned her head back with closed eyes, whispering, “Yessss…use more fingers…right…there…yessss…there!” She’d eased her arms around my waist, spread her legs and opened herself up to two of my digits that now were hooked under her pelvic bone, massaging her G spot. “Nnngghh…yeah!…yeah!…yeah!” she grunted, as she threw an arm around my neck, ripped open the high collar of my pharmacist’s smock, and raised herself off the floor, locking her ankles behind my knees.

I was now fully erect in my pants and my legs began to cramp a bit because I was carrying her. I reached with one hand to the sink board to bear our combined weight and that’s when she orgasmed, shuddering and spasming against my embedded fingers. She started to scream, then locked her mouth to my clavicle, well below the collar line, to mewl through her climax for nearly a minute. By the time she’d finished, the end of my cock was raw from rubbing against my shorts, and returning to work was the last thing on my mind, as I stripped off my white smock to my underlying tee shirt. I was no more than a step behind my pharmaceutical customer as she pranced naked down the hall to her bedroom. My mouth watered as her pear-shaped buns jiggled at me and she giggled like a wanton teenager who’d gotten exactly what she wanted.

My pants were at half-mast as I stood next to the bed, in front of her, looking down on her breathtaking, seated form. I held the box of condoms in my hand but was too slow in opening it, since Betty – that was her name, I learned later – had clawed down my shorts and inhaled my turgid cock. “You sweet…beautiful boy,” she gasped, slurping at me, “I’m gonna suck you off…then I wantcha’ to put your big…fat…cock inside me.” I groaned as she slipped me deeply into her mouth, then pulled off. “Touch me again, honey…with those fantastic hands. An’ when I cum, jus’…ram it into me. Hard! Okay?”

I couldn’t believe how forward – how dirty – she was. I groaned again, this time in agreement, incredulous at the fabulous feelings she was causing in my groin. I reached down between her legs, which she’d spread and raised to put her heels on the edge of the bed, and diddled her softly with my fingers. Her clitoris was uncommonly large…and hard…and she began trembling with each rapid, moist caress of the sensitive organ. Her lovely chestnut hair gleamed in the sunlight as her lips cycled back and forth on my thickness, and the continuous moaning in her throat soon became halting grunts as she once again approached a climax. After a minute or so she came, screaming, and fell backward on the bed, with me pitching forward between her upraised knees. “Haaaaggghhh!” she shrieked, her face distorted in sublime agony, as I filled her cleft completely to my balls.

But that was just the beginning. Betty’s vagina clamped around me like a quivering vise and she hammered back at my driving loins like a woman possessed. Each breath she took was expelled with a piercing scream as our bodies flailed away at one another. She bit me, tore at me with her nails, and her cunt seemed to gobble at my cock as if trying to consume it in great, voracious gulps. I’d never before experienced a more savage rutting in my life, as her claws ripped away at my shoulders, chest, back and butt in her passion. She seemed to be cumming constantly, as for many minutes her vagina gripped me like some unearthly, cannibalistic thing. Then her screams ceased and she threw her head back and froze – it seemed into one solid muscle – showing nothing but the whites of her eyes as her body seized up around me.

“Aahh, Gawd…yeah…aawwgghh…aawwgghh…aawwgghh!” I finally bellowed as her internal muscles pulled huge, hot gouts of seed from me to bathe her insides. With her calves on my buttocks, her quim sucked at me, pulling me slowly into her hot center, then thrust quickly back to grab more of me and empty me of spunk. I whimpered at the end of my orgasm, feeling as dry inside as dust, as we lay sweating in each other’s arms. At the end I was still gasping in huge gulps of air, sounding embarrassedly like an exhausted beast which had lost a life-and-death struggle, trying to outrun and escape its pernicious hunter.

“Mmmm…do you make all the deliveries?” she finally murmured, looking at me with glazed, ravenous eyes. Her pussy was still pulsating around my embedded cock at a rate that would alarm a cardiologist.

“Uuhh…no. Just in the afternoons and evenings.”

“Perfect!” she whispered. “Whom do I ask for, honey?”

“They call me Glen,” I responded, as my flaccid dick slipped from her cunt.

“Mmmm…Glen. I like that!”

I’d never before had such a rough sexual experience with a woman, I thought, as I wolfed down a sandwich while driving back to the store, arriving just at the moment Rosemary had expected me. The tryst with Ms. Thompson had made me vow to do some research into the sexual responses of epileptics…or at least of women prone to seizures.

Part 2

“Rosemary’s on the warpath!” Arlene warned as I entered the store. “She had a screaming phone call with her husband, then a call from a customer, and she’s really pissed off! She’s letting me go a couple of hours early tonight…said she and you could cover for me on the register.”

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Dunno. But…could you drop me off at home on your evening deliveries, Glen? My husband Cliff is on a fishing trip an’ Dawn’s gonna be out. We could…maybe…”. Arlene’s lonely brown eyes were pleading with me for illicit sustenance.

This was the last thing I needed. My tee shirt under my smock was spotted with blood from Ms. Thompson’s slashing nails, and another strenuous sexual romp was out of the question. It was Saturday night, I was exhausted after a long week, and was looking forward to sleeping late the next morning.

“I’ll ask Rosemary,” I said, avoiding having to make a decision. “But we’ll be short-handed here.”

“Ohh…don’t bother her. I’ll take a cab. Go on upstairs and see the ice woman,” said Arlene, disappointed and resigned to a lonely night of TV watching and solitary stimulation. She’d admitted to me months earlier that she masturbated regularly.

Rosemary was sitting in her dark, second-floor office, with only a fluorescent desk lamp providing illumination. Her hands covered her face and she was either crying or wiping away tears. She hadn’t heard me ascend the stairs so I just stood for a few moments, trying to imagine the source of my gorgeous boss’s unhappiness.

“Ohh…I didn’t hear you. How long have you been standing there?” she asked, defensively.

“Ten seconds,” I replied, lying.

“Well. Arlene’s taking off a couple of hours early, so you and I’ll have to cover for her and do deliveries, then close up.”

“I can’t drop her off at home, then,” I said, freeing myself from Arlene’s wishes.

“Hell, no, Glen! Not after this afternoon!”

I suspected what she was referring to, but didn’t broach the subject. It seemed that everyone knew that Arlene and I had screwed on occasion…including her daughter. “Okay. She can call a cab, and I’ll work the register ’til the late deliveries, then come back and help you close.” I was trying to be helpful.

“Good!” she said, wiping smeared mascara from her eyes. “Now, give me a few minutes and I’ll be downstairs to help.”

“Gotcha’,” I said, and turned.

“Ohh, by the way,” Rosemary said. “I got a call from Betty Thompson. She couldn’t stop raving about you…and your hands. She’s an old college roommate. Hope you enjoyed yourself,” she concluded, sounding coquettish, as she freshened her makeup in a small mirror.

The evening was slow, and I was apprehensive. I knew something was up and rushed through my closing tasks after the pharmacist left, leaving only Rosemary and me alone in the store. At the stroke of ten I locked up, carried the cash drawers upstairs, and busied myself by restocking shelves while she counted the day’s take. A half-hour later she paged me through the PA system, reminding me to turn off all the lights and join her in her office.

As I approached her, she was in her usual position with shapely legs crossed, looking much better than a few hours before, and smoking a cigarette. “Well, come sit down and let’s talk,” she said. I did as she said, unbuttoning my smock at the neck, and stretched, looking at my watch. Another six-day week is finished, I thought, anticipating a long night’s sleep without the need of Dexedrine to help me study. She stubbed out her cigarette, leaving its embers still smoking in the tray, its butt covered with fresh lipstick…a ruby red. Awfully sexy looking, I noted, without really thinking.

What I was wondering was what her friend, Ms. Thompson, had told her. I blundered by taking the initiative. “So, you know, uhh…Betty Thompson,” I said.

“For years,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “We were roommates in college. She was a slut even then. A music major. I’d date a guy, and she’d fuck him before I ever really got to know him. We both stayed in town after graduation…I got married, she didn’t…and here we are.”

“A nice person…very attractive,” I ventured.

“She said the same about you, Glen. ‘Such fine, strong hands’,” she said, mocking the voice of her former college roommate perfectly. “Well, show me. I’ve had a helluva day and I need a back rub. Rosemary’s blue eyes were now glistening with a devilish fire.

“Wha’?” I gasped.

“Rub my back! I’ve got knots in my neck and shoulders that my wastrel husband caused years ago. I wanta see if you’re as good as Betty says.”

I rose unsteadily from my chair and stood behind her as she swiveled around to place her elbows on her desk. I’d only touched Rosemary once in my life…to shake hands when we first met. I was therefore nervous, but not so nervous that I didn’t notice the fresh perfume that wafted upward from her seated body. My hands went over her shoulders, tentatively, and I applied thumb pressure on either side of her spine. Her muscles were very tight, and she moaned, pleasurably. I moved my thumbs slightly to new terrain and she moaned again, spurring my courage to explore further up to the base of he r skull. I turned down the upturned collar of her lab coat and stroked the silken skin of her dainty neck, running my fingers around it under the top of her blouse.

“Nnngaahh…Glen…yesss,” she murmured. “That feels so gooood. Don’t stop…pleeease,” she whined. I kept at her, gently caressing and massaging the creamy skin down to her clavicle, then back up. Her head started to loll back and forth in relaxation, and I pulled slightly at her lab coat collar, wordlessly indicating that I wanted to remove the garment. She raised her arms from her desk and hung them limply at her sides, and I peeled the top part of it off her shoulders and held the sleeves. She pulled her arms from them and I looked down at the top of her head, which was trembling slightly. In the oppressive silence I heard her breathing deeply…a bit excitedly…and I ran my hands over her creamy shoulders, which were bare since she’d been wearing a sleeveless silk blouse underneath.

“You like that?” I asked, in what I thought – ridiculously – was my deepest, sexiest mutter.

“Ooohhhh…Gawd, yessss, Glennn. Jus’ rub me all over. Your hands feel so goood!”

Emboldened, I pointed my fingers downward and crept lower on either side of her spine to the waistband of her skirt, testing – I must admit, since I now knew mischief was afoot – how far I might go before she stopped me. I was under her skirt now and moving my hands outward to feel the tight flare of her hips when she tensed. I retreated, running my hands back up her sides to her armpits, causing her to shiver. “Tickle?” I asked.

“Mmmm…a little,” she replied in a small, girlish voice. “But don’t stop…please.” She brought her arms in front of her and seemed to be fiddling with something as I ran my hands up and down the silken columns of her upper arms. Her skin’s like that of a baby! I thought. Then I moved back up to her shoulders, spending several minutes working out her kinks, all of which brought forth mewls of acceptance and pleasure.

It was several minutes before I realized that Rosemary had unbuttoned her blouse. When she leaned back toward me in her chair and looked up at me, her eyes were clear and plaintive. She then grabbed both of my hands and pulled them downward to cup her full, firm breasts. As my fingers closed around them she exhaled a loud “Uuunn-uunnh!” and looked backward at me again, telegraphing that she wanted more. Her nipples were already hard as she reached behind herself and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to her elbows and revealing two of the finest mammaries I’d ever seen, whether in physiology class or in the back seat of a car. “Rosem…!” I gasped.

“Ssshh, Glen! I want this!” and she reached up to her desk lamp and clicked it off, leaving us in total darkness. What followed was the hurried panting of two people disrobing in the dark, with me trying to find my smock to grab the unopened box of condoms in its pocket. Then I felt her sublime body rub against mine in the blackness, her small hand furtively running to and fro on my erect cock, still slick from the effusions of her friend, Betty Thompson. “Forget the rubbers. It’s okay!” she urged, and pulled me down onto her as she leaned backward onto her desk. “Touch me all over, Glen! I wantcha to feel all of meeee!” she mewled, as my fingers rolled her nipples. I did her bidding. My hands covered her entire body, from her shoulders past her breasts, then down over her trembling tummy to her mound. I raked my fingers through her pubic hair and she thrust its wetness up at me with a sudden gasp. I must confess that I wanted to tease her a little, and moved my thumbs down her soaking labia as she whimpered my name.

My eyes had by this time adjusted to the darkness, and I saw the pale majesty of her small body writhing under my touch, desperately seeking contact with whatever appendage I had to offer. Whether fingers, tongue or cock, I gleefully realized that my bitchy boss wanted them all, as I began a deep muscle massage of her curvaceous bottom, thighs and calves, bringing moans of delight from her lips, thrust out in pleading invitations for me to go further…faster.

Stepping closer to her open vulva, I ran my hands under her waist, touching my fingers and attempting to span her entire waist. My thumbs nearly met at her navel and I took much satisfaction in knowing that – eventually – I’d grip her wasp waist this way when in a different position…while we were fucking. There was no hurry. Unlike a few hours earlier with her friend, Ms. Thompson, this would be sweet, not savage.

So, I began kissing and nibbling at her splayed inner thighs from her knees to their heated nexus. Her skin tasted progressively more salty as I gradually lowered my head into the profoundly musky trough between her legs. The first slow, broad lapping of her swollen labia caused her to groan deeply in her throat…a pleasured, feral, feminine sound that came all the way from her torso’s diaphragm. It was as if she’d given herself over to an inner force with which she was constantly battling. I sensed that she was surrendering to an implacable code in offering herself to me. I was appalled by this – that she so suddenly wanted me – since previously she’d treated me like an oversized, self-contemptuous lug, a raw-boned boy fifteen years her junior.

As I split her cunt with my tongue, her hips quivered and she thrust up at my mouth, rapidly gasping, “Uhh-uhh-uhh-uhh,” as if she were stuttering. She repeated the grunting litany, then did so again. “Oooohh…babeeee…soooo…gooood!” she then whimpered, haltingly. Very gently, she placed her hands on the back of my head and turned her face to one side, and continued mewling the incomprehensible murmurs and babbling of a mature woman in the throes of extreme passion.

Her insides tasted rich and fecund. Her juices bathed my face as I stirred my tongue inside her, then dribbled down her taint to pool on the top of her desk. I swallowed as much as I could of her nectar, until her flow lessened, then began a slow swirling around her clit with the tip of my tongue. Gawd, I loved the sounds she was making…the deep, rasping moans, the bleats, then the quick panting, as I flicked away at her little bud. She was now slowly grinding her pussy up at my demanding mouth…rubbing, rubbing…and the speed of her upward thrusts slowly increased, as did her moaning. She began uttering low grunts at first – every fifteen seconds or so – then their rate increased. “Unh-uuunh…unh-uuunh…unh-uuunh,” she called out, then “Uuunnnggghh, uuunnnggghh, uuunnnggghh,” as my tongue fluttered faster against her clit. Finally, her hands left the back of my head and she gripped her full breasts, pulling upward on her hard, pink nipples as her head began thrashing back and forth. “Nnnggh…Glennn…sweeet…I’m…ohhh, Glennnn!” she cried, and her labia began crashing against my questing mouth and chin. “You’re…ooohh, Ga…! Gawd! I’m cu’…Glennnnnn!” I held her down during her climax – my arms firmly encircling her upraised thighs – for a good two minutes…until her legs flopped apart. She was now relaxed and whimpering little girl sounds in her throat, once again with her hands on my head, but this time softly stroking my wet face.

“I want you inside me,” she finally said, grasping for me to rise from my kneeling position on the floor. “I need you inside me. Gawwwd…please fuck me, Glen,” she pleaded. “Pleeeze!”

My previous fear of Rosemary had vanished. I’d crossed the frontier of a new province in our relationship. I was the bearer of something she needed, apart from being a mere employee whom she could boss around. I’d matriculated to a new level…one in which I realized that sex could be used to gain influence over someone…even power. As I stood she looked down at my rampant cock, now having been hard and pulsating for many minutes. “How? How do you want it?” I asked, tentatively. I truly was at a loss as to how to pleasure her, so conditioned was I by her constant orders.

“Oooohhh…sweet baby…you know exactly how. Gently, sweetie. Slowly…like I know you can do. Like you love me,” she said. Then she began a quiet whining…a soft, though wanton, eerie sound as she reached down to grasp my cock and place it at her opening. Both of us gasped as we made contact, and I hesitated to move forward, instead remaining rooted and allowing her to part the petals of her oozing pussy with the crown of my penis. The soft, liquid, smacking sounds of our blood-filled parts echoed in the darkness as her soft wailing continued. “Now, honey…oh, please, now!” she gasped, and we both thrust at one another, our loins joining hotly – wetly – causing me to close my eyes and see fireworks explode behind my eyelids.

“Aaahh, Jeezus,” I groaned, and fell forward onto her, my toes digging into her office carpet. Her arms encircled me immediately, and she began whispering into my ear as we fucked, slowly and languorously.

“Ahh…yeeaahh…baby. I knew you’d be good. From the first day. So biiiig…so gentle…so sweet. Gawwd…damn, you’re good! Yeah! Just like that, honey. Slow and easy!” she intoned, as I stirred her insides. As I cycled in and out of her, trying to be as inventive as I could given my 20-year-old’s sexual experience, I thanked my lucky stars to have been blessed by such a fantastic woman. And, I was amazed as to how easy it had been. “Feel me inside, sweetheart? Am I good for you? I wanna be good for you. You…uunngh…keep…me…uunngh…happy, and, I’ll…uunngh…be extra…good for you, baby. Aaaggh…honey…I love the…uungh…way you, uungh, feel…uunngh…ohh…ohh…Gle…hon…I’m…ohh…ohh…Glennnn! You’re gonna…Glen! Hold still! I’m…cummm-mmmiiiing! Awww…oohhh!” And, as Rosemary writhed her way through another galvanic orgasm, I let myself go. From the tips of my toes to the pulses in my brain’s frontal lobe, I filled her hot, yawning insides with all the semen I thought remained in my balls. It took minutes of our clutching at one another before we even thought about allowing our bodies to part.

I spoke first. “Can we have some light? I wanta see you,” raising myself off her fulsome breasts.

“Sure, hon, you’ve earned a peek,” she said, amusedly, and switched on her desk lamp. Her body was more beautiful than I’d imagined, with its fair, Celtic skin tone, contrasted with the dark, nearly black pubic bush and hair on her head. Though soft looking, she was round in all the right places, without a hint of excess fat. This was a woman whose physique could surpass all those of the previous twenty centuries that were etched in stone, cast in bronze or painted on canvas. In appreciation, I tongue-kissed her between her breasts and rose, turning away, to gather my clothes.

“My Gawd! Glen!” she gasped. As I turned toward her, she said, “Your body! It’s been cut to ribbons! Did that slut do that to you?”

“Uuhh…just a few scratches,” I said modestly, referring to the lacerations Betty Thompson had made when we’d fucked earlier in the day.

“Honeeey!” she almost shrieked. “Come here and let me help you!” I walked toward her as she pulled a bottle of alcohol and cotton balls out of a drawer. I marveled at what else she might have in her desk, since from there she’d earlier produced a dozen condoms.

I guess some of my lacerations were deeper than I’d thought, since the alcohol caused a lot of stinging. The noises she made in her throat as she swabbed the tears in my flesh – on front and back – were a bit much, I thought. Nevertheless, I felt pampered and attended to, for the first time in several years. Her eyes were misty after she’d finished cleaning my scratches. “All finished?” I asked, embarrassed in my young, male way of betraying any concern at all for such insignificant wounds.

“For now,” she said. “But when you get home tonight, take a shower and put on some of this.” She reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a tube of antibiotic ointment. “There’s no telling what that whore had under her nails.” That said, she reached for her underwear and we began dressing.

The phenomenal interlude was over. Before we got to the front door, she said, “I want to kiss you here, since someone might see us outside.” She leaned up on tiptoe and brought my face to hers, and her full lips – our first substantive kiss – paralyzed me with a moist, disarming feeling. A quick moan and brush of her tongue across mine promised more, I hoped, but she broke from me and strode to the door. Outside, she reclaimed her distance. Somewhat awkwardly, she reached out to shake my hand, yet her eyes told a totally different message. Being a good employee, I drove home, took a shower as my ego sang congratulatory praises, and fell into bed, looking forward to a Sunday over the books.

Part 3

I didn’t dream until morning, when a Gawd-awful drumming kept recurring in my ears. I covered my head with a pillow and it continued. Finally, I realized that it was someone knocking at the door. Groaning, I burrowed more deeply into the pillow, thinking that whomever it was would give up and go away. The persistent knocking continued, though, and I rose, stumbling toward it – clad only in a pair of brief underwear – resplendent with a morning hard-on. Standing behind the door for modesty, I opened it a crack and…there was Rosemary, carrying a large picnic basket and shoulder bag! “Good morning, young man!” she said cheerily, her blue eyes flashing. “Gonna invite me in, or do I have to dress your wounds out here in the hall?”

As sleepy as I was, I snapped fully awake and groped at the hook on the door for my old robe…which I’d left in the bathroom. By this time she’d slipped inside and I stood before her uneasily, my cock rapidly retreating to a flaccid state. “What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after 8,” she said. She was dressed in a white, knee-length, sleeveless, full-skirted cotton dress with roses printed on it, showing her incomparable shoulders and firm arms. Its bodice and back were scooped low, and her flesh screamed out to be touched. Her legs were without nylons and she wore black flats on her tiny feet. She also had large, gold hoops in her ears, making her look slightly Hispanic with her black hair. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” she voiced. So, when my drunken husband rolled in around 4, I got up, made some nice Sunday food for you and me, and thought I’d help you study today. Did you do what I told you last night?” she asked, eyeing closely one of Betty’s lacerations on my chest.

‘What’s that?” I asked, thickly. Her soft fingers had moved to another of Betty’s scratches and at that moment an adrenal pulse rolled through my groin, causing my cock to jump twice.

“Did you shower and use the ointment?” she asked, slowly, as if I were a two-year-old. She’d noticed the glandular activity in my groin.

“Ohhh…yeaahh,” I responded, absently.

“Good, then c’mere,” she said, and jumped up quickly to kiss me. “Whee-uuw,” she said, making a sour face. “Go brush your teeth, cutie. I wanta kiss you first. Then I’ll have a cigarette.” Two minutes later I was back, watching her stow what seemed like tons of food in my refrigerator. I’d donned a pair of khaki shorts, which immediately caused a comment. “Didn’t have to dress for me,” she said, as she gave me a slow, languorous kiss, splitting my lips with her tongue. “Mmmm…that’s more like it,” she said, licking her lips lavishly. “Now, coffee?” I grunted acceptance and soon took a cup of instant coffee from her caressing hand. “Take me on a tour, please,” she said, which I did.

My apartment was unimpressive. The furniture was early garage sale style. The place’s only redeeming feature was an ancient fireplace and a balcony off the bedroom that was the fourth-floor fire escape access. It faced west and was hidden by tall trees, so I’d put two old folding chairs on it to look out over the university neighborhood. We sat on it making small talk, absorbing the morning coolness, and drank coffee as she retrieved a cigarette from her bag next to the bed. I finally said, “I do have to study today. I’ve got an Anatomy midterm coming up this week.”

“I’ll help. I was a lower division Physiology major before switching to Business. But first I wanta get your scratches healthy, feed you, then… “.

“Don’t waste your time, Rosemary.” I’d been taught by my WASP parents never to accept a person’s largesse…particularly that of a woman.

She raised to her full height of 5′2″ immediately, grabbed her bag, and walked inside the bedroom. “Come here, you big dummy,” she barked. “You mean to tell me that the only way you’ll listen to me is if I act like your kick-ass boss? Can’t you accept that I might…like you a little bit?” With that she hugged me, hard. Her cheek pressed against my naked chest and she murmured, “Gawd…damn, you smell good. C’mon. Strip…put on a towel if you want…and lemme look at those scratches again.”

In the bathroom I left my shorts, my briefs, and draped a towel around my middle. I rubbed my jaw and wished that I’d shaved, then looked at my watch. Shit! Nine o’clock, and I hadn’t eaten or started studying yet! Back in the bedroom I got more orders.

“On your belly! Your back and buns are the worst, and hardest for you to get at.” I flopped down, Rosemary straddled my thighs, and began her mission of mercy. I groaned as she applied alcohol to the wounds with cotton balls, and listened to her appraisal of her former college roommate. “That bitch!” she’d mutter, when I grunted from an especially sharp shard of pain. “That cunt!” But soon I stopped my gritty gasps and relaxed, lulled by the soothing feel of her healing touches.

I hardly noticed when she loosened the towel from my waist to reveal my naked butt and began soothing the gouges there, first with alcohol, then ointment. I’d nearly fallen asleep when she suddenly leaned down and kissed me on one bun, then the other. I opened my eyes, then closed them again, satisfied that this angel of mercy had my best interests at heart. “Feels really good, Rosemary,” I murmured, lapsing into a dreamlike state.

She just mewled in response as I felt a small hand on each cheek of my ass, massaging deeply, then pulling them apart. I tightened my muscles reflexively, ashamed that this lovely woman was peering at what I assumed was the worst example of a hairy, obnoxious exit for the body’s waste. Of course, I’d never seen it, so my assumption was non-empirical. At that moment to her, though, she treated it like an éclair, as I felt her lean down – for one tantalizing moment – and bathe it with her hot breath. Then, with no hesitation, she ran her tongue up my crack, from my balls to my coccix. Then, almost for good measure and to prove to me that her action wasn’t a misplaced lingual venture, she did it twice more, murmuring, “I’m gonna get real used to that, baby.”

“Jeezus…I hope you do,” I gasped, not knowing what else to say, with my cock now throbbing into the terrycloth towel.

“I have a confession to make,” she said, as her hands now kneaded my back from my shoulders to upper thighs. “I sent you to Betty’s yesterday…knowing she’d fuck you. I had no idea, though – God is my witness – that she’d chew you up this way. I just wanted to get an advance report on you. I’m so sorry you were hurt by my misjudgment.”

“S’okay, Rosemary,” I mumbled into my pillow. “The perils of being a delivery guy,” I chortled, glibly.

“Yeah?” she asked. “Well, boss Bob and I have plans for you, delivery guy. You’re gonna spend a lot more time behind the prescription counter…and I’m not gonna have you fuckin’ any more of our customers.” I froze at the resolve in her voice, but was heartened when she leaned down and kissed me behind the ear. Was that her bare breasts I felt on my back? I wondered. “Turn over, sweetness, an’ I’ll do your front,” she cooed.

I did so quickly and – sure enough – she’d unbuttoned the bodice of her dress to reveal her full, tight tits, unfettered by a bra. I cupped them lovingly in each palm and hardened their nipples quickly with soft twists of fingers and thumbs. She gasped, closed her eyes, and with trembling hands unbuttoned the rest of her dress down its front. Her taut, flat tummy, whose muscles had pulled a huge load from my balls the previous night on her desk, trembled with shy anticipation. Below it, her black bush was slightly parted at its base as her labia oozed onto my thighs. “No underwear this morning?” I asked. “I know it’s Spring, and awfully warm, but…”.

“Oh, shut up, you arrogant kid!” she said, acknowledging my humor. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a horny old married lady!” And with that she stripped the towel from between us and fell onto me, kissing me all over my face and squishing her pillowy breasts onto me. “I don’t wanna wait, honey. Later for the scratches. Later for brunch. Later for studying. Let’s just fuck! Please!” she begged, as I reached to position her. “Ohh…Glennnn!” she cried, as I slid deeply into her wetness.

“Nnnngghh!” I grunted as my hands went immediately to her waist, emulating the grip I’d had on her momentarily the night before. Her eyes opened large and round as I pulled her down onto my tumescence. She’d been ready…probably since walking in the front door. She was hot and soaking. She was quivering, alive inside, and gripped me as she moaned, her eyes narrowed, until her rhythm evened. “Oohh, yeah!” I grunted triumphantly, with all the eloquence of a modern-day porn star. Her luscious alabaster saddle plopped noisily against mine as she hoisted herself off me repeatedly and dropped down the full length of my meat.

“Ohh…sweetie…I wanna do everything with yoou! Taste you, eat you, swallow you. I wanna get so dirty!” she whispered in my ear in a throaty rasp. “Will ya’ let me?” she asked, looking through slits into my eyes as she licked at my lips.

“What did ya’ have in my mind?” I asked, deadpan, curious to see her imagination at work.

She hesitated a moment, then rose up, saying, “Let’s start with this!” and pivoted on my cock, 180 degrees, to face my feet. Grabbing my shins, she started a forward and backward movement, giving me a perfect view of her swollen labia as they slid the full length of my member. Looking back at me over one shoulder, she asked, “See how your big cock fills me up? See how my pussy is just lovin’ it? Oh…you’re so deeep…so deeep!” It was a fascinating sight. Her bright pink lips clung to my shaft, coating it on each thrust with her clear, off-white, syrup that gathered around my root in a froth. I reached down with both index fingers and softly stroked her stretched flesh on each side of my thick, tan shaft, as its bulbous crown and thick veins slipped lovingly into her opening. “Ohhh…Glennn…that’s…sooo…sexyyy!” she whined at my touch. I wiped her dainty, winking, anus with her nectar, spreading it liberally over the little rose-colored star, which caused her to mewl in her throat, then murmur, “Yesss…babyyy…inside…put it insiiide!” One finger went inside, slowly, then she gasped, “Another…honeyyy! Use anotherrr!”

I couldn’t believe what she was asking me to do. I’d never felt the soft, spongy lining of any rectum, let alone that of a woman I was fucking. “Like that?” I asked, innocently, worming both fingers into her as she exhaled in deep grunts. “Do you like it like that?” I asked again, burrowing both digits to the limit in her clenching anus.

“Aaagghh…yeeaahh!…yeeaahh! Oohh…I’m…gonna…cummm…so haaard!” she bleated, as I felt her vagina tighten on my slick probe. “Unh-unhh-unhh-uunnhhh…ye’…yea’…yeah…yeah! Aagghh, Gaawwd, Gle’…it’s now! Now! Now! Nooowww!” she yelled while plunging backward onto me. Her head lolled down from her shoulders as I felt her contractions begin, then she snapped it upright and began baying at the ceiling as her climax overtook her. She whimpered out-of-control for a full minute, sounding almost like a woman being beaten, as her vagina locked onto me at full depth. Her magnificent ass trembled as her paroxysms shook her for another minute, then she collapsed between my legs, twitching every few seconds as she mewled into the sheets.

We lay there for a couple of minutes, with me still erect and embedded in her, until she raised herself off me with a moan and turned around to face me, straddling my legs. My wet cock had slapped back against my belly and, still panting, she reached down with both of her small hands and started stroking me with her soft fingers. Her eyes were glazed as she then leaned down and curled her tongue around my pulsing glans, then – quickly – sank her mouth onto me with a sudden gulp. Taking me as deeply as she could, her fingers moved in tandem with her sucking lips, so that every inch of my cock met some portion of her velvet flesh. Each time she reached her limit she moaned and gulped…moaned and gulped, maintaining a slow pace and pressure that caused a tingling in my toes. The rhythm was even. It was maddening. It was heavenly, and soon the tingles spread up to my calves, then my thighs, until I felt the first pulse of cum leave my balls. Tasting it, she opened her eyes widely to look into mine, and sped up her vacuuming, squeezing pace. I yelled perhaps a dozen times as my load coursed upward into her mouth, with her moaning and swallowing. She sucked and swallowed nearly until my balls hurt from the pressure. After my knotted muscles relaxed, I realized that I’d never before felt so empty of seed. I whimpered, much like she had at the end of her orgasm, as her gripping fingers suddenly relaxed and she lay her head down on my belly, giving little kisses to my softening cock.

I awoke from our slumber first, and looked down to see Rosemary breathing deeply in sleep. Onto my stomach she was drooling a mixture of saliva and spunk from between her bow-like lips. I moved slightly and she roused, looked up at me, saying, “Mmmm, believe it or not, I’ve never let anyone cum in my mouth. Never swallowed jizzum before, either.” I did find it hard to believe, and hoped that her initial experience would be the first of many.

“How ’bout some nourishment, honey? Why don’t you shower while I make you a big omelet? I also wanna brush my teeth, ’cause my mouth tastes like both of us…not that I’m complaining. Can I borrow a robe?” she asked.

I handed her my old tartan plaid bathrobe and she slipped it on. It was so large that she swam in it, needing to roll the sleeves up over her tiny wrists. But, damn! she looked sexy, with it drawn tightly around her tiny waist. I started to grab for her but she gently held me at bay to my groaning protests. My cock had started to rise again, but she pushed me with comic difficulty into the bathroom. As I showered I mulled over in my mind how marvelous life’s surprises can be, and had to forestall the temptation to masturbate. Drying off, I slipped into a pair of khaki shorts…the extent of my Sunday uniform.

“I’m out here!” Rosemary called from the kitchen, as I heard chopping and smelled garlic cooking in butter. “You read and I’ll bring it in when it’s ready!” As always, I did what the boss told me to do. But rather than sit at my desk, I returned to the bedroom and lounged on the lumpy mattress. Emboldened by the previous two hours, I wanted my Sunday to be a mix of business and pleasure.

The omelet was fantastic. Sharp cheddar, mushrooms, tarragon, sour cream and chives, topped with tablespoons of caviar. Sourdough toast and orange juice completed the brunch. Rosemary sat next to me with legs curled to one side, her luscious thighs displayed through my open robe, and told me more about herself as I ate. She was Irish Catholic. Her firefighter husband worked a non-stop 40-hour shift, then spent the rest of the week at a small marina business on the river delta in which he was a partner. They rarely saw one another and, when they did, he was usually drunk. They’d given up having sex a few years before, having been told that she was barren. Yet, she refused to divorce him, maintaining the contradictory orthodox position of staying with her spouse, who’d been repeatedly unfaithful to her. She took Confession in church regularly, and admitted that she prayed for her mate constantly.

I’d laid my empty plate next to her and, when she’d finished her story, I reached for her, running one hand inside the robe to caress a breast, then moving it down across her tummy to her bush, which was either still moist, or she’d again become excited. She closed her eyes briefly and moaned, seeming to debate with herself whether to succumb to my overture. After a few seconds she said, “C’mon, doctor-to-be, you need to study…and I need to clean up the kitchen.” She grabbed the plate and was gone, leaving me to my Anatomy textbook. I heard kitchen sounds for the next many minutes as I focused on definitions of female body parts. At the end of the chapter I laid the book down and, on impulse, rose to join her in the kitchen.

At the doorway she hadn’t heard me, since she was cleaning my dirty sink. I tiptoed up behind her and placed my hands on her breasts. She jumped, startled, then leaned her head back against my chest and relaxed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. My hands crept under the robe and toyed with her nipples, causing her to moan. “You said you wanted to get dirty,” I muttered in her ear, opening the robe and running my fingers down past her waist to stroke her vulva. “Is this a bad time?”

“Ohhh…Glen…you’re such a naughty boy!” she whispered. “Anytime is a bad time…that’s what makes it so dirty!” she whined, spinning around and kissing me deeply. She tasted wonderful – much better than I, I thought – and showed no bashfulness as she peeled open the robe and pressed her naked body to mine. Her hands wrestled my shorts loose and they fell to the floor. Her eyes plead with mine as she whimpered, “Please take me here…right here…from behind,” and walked to a short, metal stepladder I use to access high, upper cabinets. Taking one step up, she wiggled her tempting ass at me and said, “Gawd, I want you so bad! It’s so goood! Please hold me real tight, baby, an’ fuck me! Fuck me!…Ohh, Glennn! Aaawwgghh!”

Her invitation had not fallen on deaf ears. My cock was like smooth steel as it slipped into her slick pussy from behind. My hands found their natural position at the flare of her hips as I pulled her onto me, causing her to resume her moaning of an hour and more before. I gored her this time, though, twisting my hips so that my rod punished her continually, bringing a sadistic measure of delight to our mating. We grunted, we thrashed, we slapped against one another as if it had been our first time, all the while her voice echoed through the old apartment with bestial paeans of, “Yesss! Harderrr! Fuuuck me…harderrr!” until she climaxed, which nearly peeled the faded, cream-colored paint from the walls. Then, as she was coming down, she frantically grabbed for the cube of butter left over from the omelet. Close by her on the sink board, she dug a blob of the softened mass onto her fingers and reached back, smearing it all over her rectum. “Fuck my ass, honey. Please! I want you…there too! Hard!” I obliged her, feeling incredibly beastly as I performed my first act of anal intercourse, and she shrieked out the sweetest, submissive surrender I’d ever heard. “Yesssss! Take allll…of meeee…loverrrr!”

I rode her until I could no more. That was just about the time a grad student neighbor of mine, pounding on the walls in the next apartment, heard me shout as I spilled my load into Rosemary’s ass. I answered his pounding with deep guttural growls of completion from my own lungs. Rosemary, in turn, mewled through our sodomy until I’d stopped pulsing and shuddering. Then, in a workmanlike way, she reached for a dishrag, wet it with warm water, knelt and washed down my groin with the tenderest of touches. “You were wonderful, sweet one. I’ve never done that before…and you were amazing.” While she stood to wash out the rag, a rivulet of my cum ran down her inner thigh from the deeply set crack bisecting her high, round bottom.

The next three to four hours found us on the bed, naked, with my boss helping me memorize descriptions of human anatomical parts. Each time I wanted to take a break – given my high hormone level and her tempting body – she’d roll away from me, still grasping my textbook. “Show some discipline, Glen,” she’d admonish. “Other than hands-on practice, most medical practice relies on pure memory work. And I’ve decided that I’m gonna help you ace your exams…for a price. With me behind you as your tutor and lover, you’d have to be an idiot not to get into med school.”

So, she became my tutor that afternoon – the first of perhaps a hundred afternoons – drilling me until my brain overflowed with details. At about 4 p.m., as she lay on her back checking my responses to her questions in the textbook, I was standing at the end of my bed, my hands gripping the iron rungs that formed its foot board. Her closed legs were drawn up at her knees, revealing nothing of the treasure between them. I’d had two more cups of coffee, which had reacted with the residual Dexedrine in my system, and I was tense…feeling hyperactive. And my mind was super-sharp. I felt prepared…in Anatomy, anyway.

Suddenly, she closed the book with a pop! and threw it across the bed. “Verrry good!” she exclaimed. “You’ve earned a break!” and lowered one leg, spreading it slightly from its twin to show me the pinkness that peaked through her dark pubic batch. She raised both of her arms to me and said, “C’mere, young man. Let’s have a lab demonstration of human reproduction!” I nearly flew over the bed at her, inviting a delighted yelp as her thighs spread widely to accept my anxious loins, from which grew my hardening cock. “Mmmm, okaaay, hot stuff!” she murmured, between sloppy wet tonguings into my mouth as I held her nestled in my arms. “You wanna do me? I wantcha’ to! I wanna feel you splash inta’ me. Gawd, you’re hard already!” she gasped, looking up at me through dark blue slits. “C’mon darlin’…c’mon…gimme your cum! Ooohhh, shiiit!”

I’d slammed my cock balls-deep into her, probably bruising her cervix. But it hardly mattered, since we’d both gone insane with lust. Our thrashing bodies flew at each other in a blur, and our mouths voiced on one hand the most vile entreaties imaginable, and on the other the most pleading gasps of tenderness possible when two people are in rut. Our flesh seared, and I was like iron. She was like the wettest of velvet, clutching at me continually as we finally settled into a rhythm that caused one, two, then three orgasms in her. We must have fucked for an hour; then I felt my stomach muscles knot up. I slowed and began to groan, feeling the beginnings of a cramp.

“Easy, sweetie. Easy. Just look into my eyes, let me kiss you, and relax. Let it all come out. Let Rosie take care of you!”

As always, I did as she said, and soon felt myself pouring into the boiling cauldron of her pussy. As I shot gout after gout into her, she wrapped her strong calves around my butt, pulling from me the last vestiges of the day’s seed as I whimpered boyishly. In retrospect, that – and the two-hour afterglow, during which we ate a cold chicken dinner – was among the sweetest experiences of my life. When she left in the evening to take Confession at St. Vincent’s, I was stricken by a feeling of loneliness that I’d never before felt.

Part 4

Rosemary did take care of me. For the next two years – until I graduated cum laude from the university – aside from her tutoring me each Sunday, our schedules at the store were identical, which were embellished with countless, imaginative after-hours trysts. Needless to say, my salary jumped substantially and I no longer made prescription deliveries. We were able to keep our regular sex life a secret as well – through her phenomenal management ability. She’d spread the rumor that I had a new girlfriend, which finally discouraged even Bob-the-owner’s wife, Barbara, who’d ultimately made a fool of herself with me one evening as she tried grappling with me in the attic storeroom. I’d escaped her frantic clutches, though didn’t really want to – pleading faithfulness to my girlfriend – without insulting her. At employee holiday parties, when I normally would have been Arlene’s escort because her husband always seemed to be “out of town,” I was invariably seated next to Rosemary at the dinner table. She was shrewd, she was controlling, she was magnificent. I’d never before felt so…so coached, so supported, and so profoundly sexually satisfied.
There were some difficult moments. Rosemary’s old roommate, Betty Thompson, called the store constantly, asking for me to deliver prescriptions, all of the messages being intercepted by Rosie. Finally, Betty began dropping by the store for overlong, flirtatious conversations. Her phenomenal body, usually outfitted in skin-tight dresses and extremely high heels, usually brought everything to a standstill on the floor. As she pranced out one day, even the owner, Bob, stopped filling prescriptions and put his arm over my shoulder to say, “By God, Glen, if you don’t fuck that broad, I’ll feel compelled to, just out of principle!”

“But, my girlfriend’d kill me!” I said, maintaining my subterfuge with Rosemary.

“Yeah, but what a way to go!” he nearly drooled.

In a few days she’d returned, asked Bob if I were around, and he’d directed her to a remote aisle at the end of the store where I was pricing some goods to be shelved. The first indication that she was there were her two hands over my eyes as I knelt on the floor. “Mmmm, I’ve finally got you just where I want you!” she purred, then removed her hands. I spun around on my knees and looked straight at the gap in her split skirt, which she’d opened to reveal her luscious, naked crotch, covered with her auburn bush. “Smell me, baby?” she cooed, temptingly, as her long red nails combed upward through her kinky batch. “Dontcha’ want some?”

Before I could respond with anything except a groan, I saw Rosemary standing at the end of the aisle with her hands on her hips, pushing open her lab coat and showing her clothed curves. The garment’s collar was turned up, her eyes flashed with angry feminine possession, and her pose looked life threatening. Though several inches shorter than her old college roommate, she looked ten feet tall, much like Gary Cooper in the old movie, High Noon. “May I speak with you for a moment, Ms. Thompson?” she asked. It wasn’t really a question. It was an order, and Betty turned to walk toward her old acquaintance. By the time she’d reached her, Rosemary had gripped her by the elbow and was giving her the “hurry up” maneuver, a standard physical move that policemen use when persuading a malefactor to move more quickly. They both disappeared through the swinging doors behind the main counter, then into the backroom, equipped with a closed door, the lock on which I heard click. Bob looked up from his drug-purveying duties and asked me a soundless question with his eyebrows. I shrugged my shoulders in response, indicating ignorance and my best shot at innocence. Just then I heard the ruckus begin behind the locked door of the back room. It was a slow afternoon, and I was just keeping myself busy, so I sneaked into the back to better listen to what I assumed was a heated conversation.

“You leave him alone, Betty!” screamed the muffled voice of Rosemary.

“Why? If I know you, you’re probably not fuckin’ him!” shouted Betty.

“That’s beside the point! He’s sweet! He’s clean! He’s good! You wanna fuck somebody, you’ve got thousands of studs in this college town!”

“But, I want this one, Rosie. By the way…how’s Ralph?” asked Betty in a lewd, cunning way. Ralph was Rosemary’s husband.

“You cunt! You know exactly how he is! I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked you up by now!”

“Oh, hasn’t he told you? You must know that he shoots blanks!” responded Betty. “Yeah! He told me he got clipped years ago…after you became such a controlling bitch!”

All I could hear from then on were angry female screams and grunts…and an occasional shriek as thumps were heard. I was afraid to alert Bob to what I thought was going on, but it didn’t last long. Just before the door unlocked and opened, I heard Rosemary yell, “You touch him one more time and I’ll kill you!” Then the door flew open and Betty emerged, crying – the top of her dress torn – as she tried to walk with one broken high heel. “Out the back door!” Rosemary growled through gritted teeth, hustling the tall beauty out of rear of the store where we kept the delivery vehicle. I stood, speechless, to the side and Rosemary looked at me, frothing with anger, her eyes filled with murderous, animal rage. “Yea-ahh!?” she uttered, not really seeing who I was. “Whatta you want?” she asked, running upstairs to her office. I’d never seen her more in need of a warm, comforting hug.

An hour later it was as if nothing had happened. Rosemary emerged, newly made up and in a fresh lab coat, and huddled with boss Bob for a while as the pharmacist’s shift changed before he went home. After we’d closed that night we shared a single, solitary kiss at the top of the stairs and she said, “Hope you didn’t have anything planned for the evening, since it’s Saturday, ’cause I wanna stay with you tonight. I’ll leave my car here…in back…pick it up tomorrow, maybe. C’mon…let’s go.” As we drove to my place she sat close to me clutching my upper arm with one hand and stroking my inner thigh with the other. “Sorry I yelled at you after Betty left,” she apologized. “I saw red and when I’m like that I can’t control my temper.”

I didn’t respond verbally, but decided to shut up and do whatever Rosemary wanted. She obviously needed some strokes. I got my mail from the box in the lobby and we mounted the stairs.

Inside the apartment she said, “No lights, okay? The moonlight’s beautiful and, if I see myself in a mirror, I’m liable to get crazy again. Just hold me…please, honey…”, and she pressed herself fully against me. We stood, embracing and swaying to some inner pulsing beat, for two or three minutes, until she pulled slightly away, undressing herself. There seemed no reason to speak. Our nude bodies understood what was needed, so much so that we didn’t even get to the bedroom. Instead, I sat back on my ratty old couch in front of the fireplace, whereupon she straddled my thighs and began licking me. She began at my ears, working down my neck, to my clavicle, where she interrupted her progress to murmur, “Jeezus, I love your chest. When I feel you pressing down against me I feel like I’m being had by God!” Then she began nibbling and kissing me all over my torso. I felt almost embarrassed, since I was showing her so little attention. She didn’t mind, apparently. She was doing this for herself as much as me…and I allowed it. I let her lick and suck at my flesh voraciously as she mewled in her throat like a woman possessed. I closed my eyes and lay my head back as she worked on me with her mouth. It was years later ’til I found any other woman who would come close to the sensations Rosemary awoke in me that Saturday night.

We slept little. I’ve forgotten how many times we made love. I do recall that it was mostly straight, missionary-position sex, with me filling her many times with my youthful seed. In the morning she awakened me with a cup of coffee and my previous day’s mail. As I sipped the hot liquid, she knelt next to me in my old bathrobe and presented me with a long envelope. In the upper left-hand corner it read, “Selective Service Administration.” Inside, the text began with “Greetings,” and went on to advise me that 30 days hence I was to report to the Induction Center for two years of military service.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d had your pre-induction physical?” she asked.

“Didn’t seem important,” I responded.

“Important?” she gasped, incredulously. “Did you hear what happened last month in Vietnam? The North Vietnamese massacred our guys in a place I’ve forgotten the name of! It’s 1967, Glen! You’re not in med school yet and the war’s getting worse!” She got off the bed and growled, “No! No! Not you!” She spun around and jumped back on the bed. “Go to Canada! McGill University has a great med school! I’ll take a vacation and come with you to help you get situated! Please!”

I thought she was being hysterical. Naively, I said, “It’s just two years. I’ll be okay! I speak French and German, and ‘ll attend service schools. They’ll probably send me to Europe!” My idealistic solution wasn’t very convincing but, after a while, she stopped bitching at me and we resumed our marathon fucking session that we’d begun the previous night. That lasted into the evening, at which point I drove her to the store to pick up her car. She wept on my shoulder before we parted on Sunday evening, an emotional prologue to what occurred nightly for the next month, during which time Rosemary hardly left my side.

Part 5

Though very naïve, I made the most of my time as an Army draftee. After Basic Training I qualified as a medic at Ft. Sam Houston, then was accepted at Ft. Gordon’s aviation electronics school, as well as putting in a short stint at Ft. Benning to qualify as a parachutist. Then, orders came through for First Cavalry (Airmobile) duty in Pleiku, Vietnam. For some reason, though, the day before I was to ship out, new orders were cut that assigned me to West Germany, part of a chopper support unit for the Seventh Army. It was during my early hitch in the States that Rosemary confessed her undying love for me in one of her almost daily letters. I was the only GI I knew who had a girlfriend who was fifteen years older than he, and I got the uncomfortable feeling that plans were being made for me – in my absence – back on the home front.

Europe was a breeze. Rank came easily, as I was attached to an intelligence unit, and did little more than fly across the Continent with a document pouch marked “Secret.” Then, after attending a two-week survival course with a Special Forces unit outside Munich, I received new orders, once again to report to Pleiku, Vietnam. On arriving there, my cushy military career came to an end. Though with only nine months remaining in the service, I found myself in the challenging position of being a Crew Chief in a chopper intelligence company that served as bait for enemy snipers between the Central Highlands and the Cambodian border. My earlier naïve assumptions about the military were then eliminated, especially after the Tet Offensive. My new-found experience with sheer terror and restless dreams of the high probability of my own death took their place.

But, as with all things unpleasant, they end, or people die, or both. I returned with a chest full of medals and the home front had changed drastically. The university town in which I’d grown up had become cynical and angry…or that’s what my eyes told me. I called the store when arriving in town on a Saturday evening, with Arlene answering the phone, and told her I’d catch a bus to see them. Rosemary was out on a break, but boss Bob picked up enthusiastically and treated me over the phone as if I were a conquering hero.

And that’s how I was treated when I walked in. I saw Rosemary duck into the back room, probably to freshen her makeup, as the other women ran to hug me. Bob pumped my hand eagerly as his employees cooed and raved. Then Rosemary emerged, walking stiffly to where I stood while carrying her purse. The others stepped back as she reached me, calmly turned down the collar on her lab coat, and climbed my frame as if we were alone. I lifted her off her feet and she buried her face in my neck, whispering, “I love you so much, big boy.”

“Take our Sergeant out, get ‘im drunk and feed ‘im dinner, Rosie!” called Bob who’d gone behind the prescription counter, “On me!”

We left immediately, with me tossing my duffel bag in Rosemary’s trunk…next to a small suitcase of hers. She was in a black, sleeveless cotton shift that showed her smooth white arms and shoulders. Her full, muscular calves made me hard, just looking at them as she drove. For some reason I was tongue-tied, so I just let her prattle on. “You look wonderful…in your uniform. You’ve put on weight?”

“Mmm, ’bout 15-20 pounds,” I ventured, shyly. It’d been over a year since I’d spoken with an American woman, and I was virtually tongue-tied.

“You wrote that you’d applied at Johns Hopkins med school. Did they accept you?”

“Yeah. I go to Baltimore in two weeks.”

“Mmm. I was out when you called. When I heard you were coming, I ran home and grabbed a few things. Hope you don’t mind, but I reserved a small suite at the Bay Front Hotel, thinking you’d want to re-enter slowly.”

“Fine,” I said, almost under my breath. “Thanks. Uhh, can we stop at a liquor store? I wanna get some Scotch.”

“Sure,” she said, and soon pulled into a parking lot. When I returned, I broke the seal on the bottle and took a long pull of the burning liquid, with the container still wrapped in a paper bag.

“You didn’t drink…before,” she said, quietly.

“Nope,” I admitted. Not much was said after that, until we’d registered at the hotel and gotten to the room.

Tossing my duffel in a corner, I threw my cap on the bed, loosened my tie, and poured four fingers of booze into a tumbler as Rosemary opened the sliding door that fronted the bayside veranda. “Wanta come outside? It’s awfully nice.”

I followed her out and filled my lungs with the clean, North American sea air. Gone were the odors of rotting jungle, the blistering heat, the sing-song din of Vietnamese musicians badly imitating American pop tunes, the thwop thwop thwop of chopper blades…and the anticipation of sudden death. I flopped onto a canvas chair and Rosemary stood next to me, apparently not knowing what to do. She then lay her hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and stared for several seconds, noticing two miniscule smile lines that had formed at the corners of her mouth since last I’d seen her, two years before. She saw me looking at her face and brushed her cheek, embarrassed, asking, “Do I look okay to you?”

I turned back to my drink, gulped it down, and put the glass on the deck. “Yeah,” I said, running my hand under her dress – up her warm, silken leg – right to her crotch, which was moist through her panties. “You look great. C’mere,” and I pulled her onto my lap. I was rough, since I was out of practice, and had only been with a few whores while in the Army.

She gasped after my fingers had touched her hot wetness, and she fell heavily onto me, quickly covering my face with moist kisses. “Ohh…honey…baby…I love you…so much…please,” she whimpered. “Let’s go…to bed…I ache for you.”

I let her undress me…something she insisted on…and sipped another glass of Scotch. When stripped, I lay back on the huge bed and watched her disrobe, slowly. With only panties under her dress, her phenomenal body soon came into view. I was shocked by her fair skin, having had its memory driven from me by the more dusky brown women I’d seen in Asia. She started to bound onto the bed but I held up my hand, wanting just to look at her. She seemed to understand, folding her legs attractively to modestly cover her coal black bush, and sat a couple of feet below me. I motioned for her to turn, and she did so, revealing her spinal crease and the flawless flare of her hips and bottom. My cock began to grow in appreciation of the lovely sight, as I stroked her entire back softly. She mewled in appreciation as I continued, my member finally reaching full erection. Then she turned back to me. At that moment I saw a short pink scar, that her movement quickly hid, on one side of her lower abdomen. A started to ask about it but was interrupted.

“Ohh…,” she said, almost soundlessly, and caressed my chest down to my groin. Her touch on my cock caused me to groan loudly and raise my head to the ceiling with eyes clamped shut. Then I exhaled, groaning again as her full lips slipped slowly down over my glans. “Mmmm,” she gurgled in her throat, and pulled off of me to dip even more deeply with her next plunge. Several languorous, wet passes of her hot, velvet mouth and accompanying hand brought me to a helpless, moaning threshold as she worked on my crimson cock, which now felt as if it would burst. Pulling off to breathe, she gasped, “I’ve dreamt…of this moment…for two years, baby. Please indulge me.”

“Nnnggh,” I shuddered, grasping her head and softly weaving my fingers through her wavy black hair…anything to encourage her continuance. She was, as always, in charge, exercising her undeniable authority…only more lovingly than had ever before occurred between us. Though I’d developed quite an authoritative personality in the military, I knew that she’d always be my mentor…she’d always be the woman who’d taught me everything. I also knew that she would now claim me as hers…an insecure veteran whose hormonal desires had been misdirected for a couple of years, as happens with all GIs.

“We’ve got two weeks, hon. Two nights here and…Monday we’ll go to my place…okay?” she asked.

“Your husband, Ralph?” I voiced, tremulously.

“We split up two years ago – just after you left,” she whispered between long, wet slurps at my stiff, grateful probe. “Didn’t divorce…just live apart. Now, c’mon…relax ‘n’…gimme some. Give it to me, baby…”.

“Aaagghh…Gawd…Rose…I can’t! It’s been…months! I…I…aawwgghh, shiiit!” I yelled as the unfamiliar throes of an orgasm gripped me and I started to pump semen into her sucking mouth. “Aaa-aanhh! Aaa-aanhh! Aaa-aanhh!” I yawped as I felt my balls being drained. My hips thrust upward at Rosie’s lovely face – knit with concentration – as she gulped down what seemed to be a quart of my seed, pumping in a circular motion with her small white hand. She continued for over a minute, vacuuming down my thick deposit, until my loins shuddered and my cock began to flag. Then she gently laid my cock on my thigh, kissing and licking at it, as two small rivulets of cum dribbled down her chin.

“You taste different now, Glen,” she whispered. “What did you mean when you said, ‘I can’t?’”

“I tried with whores over the past year…in ‘Nam and other places…and I couldn’t cum!” I blurted. “Right at the moment of truth…you’d flash into my head and I’d walk away with a hard-on, then I’d have to jerk off looking at your picture!”

She beamed up at me and said, “You thought of me when you were with other women? Gawd, I love you so much, Glen! You’re ten times more a man than anyone I’ve ever met!” She quickly wiped my cum splashes from her chin and thoughtlessly licked her finger as she raised up on her sumptuous knees. Then very gently she murmured, “I haven’t been with anyone since you left! I just had no desire! And now, you can stay with me ’til you leave! I’m taking time off to do two weeks of intensive ‘Sunday scholarship’ work with you. It sounds as if you need it,” she muttered, as she straddled me and began licking and nipping at my chest. Her hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, and I moaned slightly and closed my eyes as her expert fingers began once again to coax blood into my genitals.

“Aaaww,Jeezus, Rosemary!” I gasped as her expert mouth once again capped my erect cock. “I’ve really missed you…your…heavenly little body…pressing against mine.”

She pulled her mouth off me when I said that, and her eyes flashed a misty, worshipping, glance. “Well, you just lay back an’ let Rosie take care of you, baby,” as she squatted over my loins with her feet flat on the bed. With one hand behind my neck and the other grasping my pulsing rod, she stirred the crown around in her slick labia, allowing only an inch or so to penetrate her. “You like that…honey?” she whispered, with a pained look of concentration on her beautiful face. “Hmmm?”

I gasped as the tight heat of her vagina fluttered around my glans, and she leaned forward to kiss me deeply, thrusting her tongue in my mouth. As her sweet vapors mixed with my whiskey breath, she eased down over my pole, bringing a simultaneous groan from deep within both of us. I reflexively thrust my hips upward to claim the full depth of her vagina and beyond. “Aaagh, Rosem…!” I moaned, disengaging from her lovely mouth.

“Ssshhh…darlin’. Don’t move. Just let me do it,” she mewled, as once again she locked her lips to mine. I was fully embedded in her now, and she was clasping and unclasping her inner muscles around my thickness. Neither of us moved. Instead, she milked me tirelessly for several minutes until I was driven nearly to the point of madness, whimpering like a small child at her phenomenal control, as her tongue ceaselessly probed at the top of my throat while murmuring, “Mmm-hmmm…mmm-hmmm…mmm-hmmm.”

Finally, neither of us could restrain ourselves, as we abandoned ourselves to the instinctive rutting movements of fucking. By this time Rosemary’s pussy was drooling a constant stream of juice as she tucked her feet backward and dropped to her knees. Our loins then began to crash against one another in a mutual quest for release. With my grunts and groans, and her moans and mewls, the vocal chorus we provided was deafening. With my hands on her alabaster hips, trying to impale her ever deeper, she threw her head back and screamed, “Aaagghh, Gawwd, Glen…bite me!” as her nails dug into my shoulders. Her full, pert, breasts, tipped with half-inch, pink, corky nipples, bounced in front of my face as I lay back against the headboard. “Yessss!” she growled as my mouth and teeth closed on one tit, sucking for all I was worth. “Yessss!” she cried again, as I switched to capture the other. “Gawwd! Fuck meee! Yeeaah! Fuck…me! Oh! Ohh! Ohhh! Glen!…Glen!…Glen!…I’m…Glenn!…Glennn!…Glennnn!”

Our orgasm was one for the ages. As Rosemary began to cum, the numb flashes began at my toes and migrated north to my balls to end with me spilling what felt like two years worth of seed into her boiling womb. We thrashed against one another until I was fearful that I’d perforate her insides yet, at exactly the right moment, we both froze as our glands played out their sympathetic cycles and we remained locked together, trembling, gasping and desperately clutching at one another, trying to prolong our climactic joy. Soon, nothing could be heard save the rasping sound of our lungs sucking in air. In a moment we collapsed against one another and took a needed nap.

“What’s the scar from?” I asked, after we’d awakened.

“What scar? Oh, this?” she responded with wide, innocent eyes, pointing to the small, pinkish surgical blemish. “Nothing, really. I, uhh…had an ovary removed.”

“Why?”

She looked at me and slowly shook her head, her mouth trying to form words. Her blue eyes misted up and my heart froze at the very idea of Rosemary weeping. But weep she did. In fact, she cried. After pulling me to herself, the tears rolled down her face and dropped onto me as she told me the sad story.

“Oh, honey…that last month before you left…I got pregnant. I’d always had one bad ovary and the doctor told me I was barren. That was before I found out that my husband, Ralph, had had a vasectomy. All the time I thought it’d just been me!”

“So the baby was mine? What happened?”

“I was so happy! I mean, I was gonna have your baby! I was going to have it and maybe tell you when you got back…maybe not. And, if you didn’t come back, I would’ve had some part of you. Can you understand that?”

“Well…yeah. But, what happened?”

“I miscarried in my fourth month. At the very end, the doctor said I had endometriosis, and the good ovary should be removed.” At that she broke down and sobbed in my arms for an hour or more. I knew about the cellular growth that damaged fallopian tubes and ovaries, but this was an emotional condition for which Psychology classes in my pre-med program hadn’t prepared me. But, after all the duplicities of my earlier life, including the military, it certainly alerted me to the fact that Rosemary had been deadly serious about me for a very long time.

Epilogue

Toward the end of our two-week romantic idyll, during which Rosemary and I engaged in the most sublime sex play imaginable, she pledged her whole-hearted support to my medical education.

We’d just finished a late evening snack after making love and she was looking for a tube of lubricating jelly in her dresser as she confessed, “My mom died last year and left me a ton of money. I could retire now and move to the east coast with you, but I’m a realist. I’m 37, and by the time you’re finished with med school, specialty training and your residency, I’ll be in my late forties. A young, handsome doctor doesn’t need an older woman as an anchor on his life.”

“That’s a bit severe,” I opined.

“Honey, with that great body of yours, and your sensitivity, there’ll be tons of horny girls after you.”

“Maybe, but can’t I see you every now and then?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’ll insist on it,” she said. “Whenever you get a week or more off, I’ll expect to see you at the airport, primed and ready to go. Don’t worry, I’ll buy the plane tickets, and while you’re in school I’ll pay your rent and tuition. With your GI Bill check, you can buy your own food…and Scotch. Let’s just call it an extension of your scholarship,” she said, producing the tube she was looking for and squeezing out a dollop with a flourish to lube her rectum. “Now c’mere and thank your benefactor,” she said, wiggling her now very familiar, ivory, pear-shaped ass at me.

My boss took good care of me all those years, and I was very attentive to her. Though I eventually married another woman, had two children, and divorced, Rosie and I made love regularly until she was well into her sixties. Her gorgeous black hair eventually turned an attractive salt-and pepper color…but, of course, so did mine. I was stricken by her death last year from a massive stroke and, at night, I still have visions of her visiting spirit. Now that she’s gone, there’s a void in my life that will never be filled.

Today featured mature female boss fucking young student gallery