Hooing up with Rosa

'Unbelievable!' Dutch told himself, recalling that memorable night. "Just fucking unbelievable," this he said aloud.

Of course the four had never gotten together again. Marty had been killed in a mugging two days before Alice and Robert returned from their honeymoon. They were all stunned by it and it was quite a while before Dutch had joined Robert and Alice for some fairly decent threesomes, But after getting together several times, some of the luster had been lost, something new was needed.

The bartender approached Dutch who indicated that he wanted another scotch. And as the bartender filled his glass, Dutch's thoughts turned to Rosa and his brow furrowed.

'I should call her. She'll think all I wanted was a one night stand.' He told himself.

He was quiet for a time, not thinking about anything, absentmindedly sipping his drink. Then he found himself thinking about her again. He realized he missed her and wanted to be with her again.

'I better call," he thought, reliving her very uninhibited appetite. He slid off the barstool and headed for the phone, pausing to adjust himself, for he was now sporting an erection.

It took him several minutes to locate her number. He had to empty his wallet of all its contents and sift through tem before finding the tiny scrap of paper with her name and number on it.

She answered on the first ring. Five minutes later he delivered a solid kick to the door of his Volvo that produced what Dutch considered a handsome dent. Then he slipped behind the wheel and drove to Rosa's place.

***

He pulled out a cigarette and moved it toward her mouth. She spread her lips slightly to accept it and looked him in the eye as he placed it between the chiseled rims that made him think of Sofia Loren. The way she kept looking at him as he lit the cigarette for her made him feel the return of a meddlesome tingle that ran between his legs through his crotch and out the head of his dissolute dick.

Dutch found Rosa to be one of the sexiest women he'd ever encountered.

Rosa kept looking into his face until she remembered that if she followed the match with her eyes they would cross and she'd look like an idiot. She broke off the look, smiled and said, "there's some cold beer in the fridge."

He continued to look at her. "Sound's good," he murmured and got up and went to the refrigerator. Rosa drew her legs up under her and sat Indian-style on the bed while he opened the door and removed two cans from the eight that huddled on the frost-caked shelf. He popped the tab on his beer and handed her another can without opening it. She popped the top, twisted off the ring and tossed the broken tab in the general direction of the wastebasket in the corner. It landed on the rug. She made no move to retrieve it, nor did he. Dutch thought it added to the informality of her place.

He leaned his ass against the edge of the chipped dresser. "Where you from?"

"Los Angeles."

He said nothing, but took a swallow of his beer. The silence goaded Rosa into revealing more about herself.

"My father was Mexican, my mother . . ."

Dutch jumped in. "I've met the lady."

"Um, yeah . . . you sure did."

"Don't be a bitch about it." He said without rancor.

"No . . . no, I'm not." She peeked at his face to see if he believed her. His expression told her nothing.

"Anyway, he left us when I was fourteen. Mom got a job working in this bar and made herself invaluable."

"No one's invaluable," he said and took a swig of beer. To himself he said, 'My God this woman is gorgeous. A fantastic body and look at her mouth . . .

"Well the owner thought she was; and when his cancer . . ." she gulped to stifle a sob, "Sorry. He was good to me too. Anyway, when the cancer reached a point where everyone knew he was going fast, he drew up a will and left the bar to Mom. I was maybe twenty-four then."

"And?"

She wondered how he knew she was holding it back. Then she blurted it out, "I have a baby."

"I figured," he said giving her no indication on way or the other about how he felt about such matters.

Rosa bit her lower lip and pushed on. "She's fifteen now. Goes to high school, gets good grades too." This last carried a defiant tone.

"That's okay. A woman as good looking as you are figures to have had a few men in her life. Getting pregnant is kind of an occupational hazard."

"Hey! I'm not a whore!" Rosa spat out.

"Whoa! Never said you were. Didn't mean to imply it either. Sorry if I offended you."

Rosa calmed down. "Her father was Swedish, a blond god -- like a Viking."

"And he sailed off into the unknown?"

"No!" She stared at the ceiling and he took the opportunity to admire the graceful line of her neck. "He was killed in a stupid race. He thought he could drive a racecar like Ernhardt or something. Well, he couldn't."

"I'm sorry," he said and this time she was able to read his expression and knew he meant it.

"Oh . . . fuck!" And she started to cry.

"Drink your beer," he said. She tilted the can up and drank deeply. Then she was coughing, from the cigarette and the beer. He waited patiently for her to regain her composure. He got them each another beer. This time he opened it for her.

She realized she had overreacted to his comment about her late husband and admired the calm way he had handled her. Not raising his voice; actually pretty much ignoring it entirely. 'I promise I won't be a bitch tonight,' she told herself and took a drink of her beer. Rosa felt the beer feed some of its cold energy into her skin. She also noticed a pleasant itch in her crotch. She wondered briefly if it was the beer. Then she smiled a bare trace of a smile, as she concluded it wasn't the beer.

Dutch was also getting horny. Rosa quickly finished the second beer with a deep swallow. He watched her throat muscles work as she tilted her head back. 'So that's what she'll look like with my dick down her throat,' he thought. She put the empty down on the floor beside the bed and sat there looking at him.

"I may move to a nicer place next month. You know, share it with a girlfriend," she said off-handedly.

He stared at her and she felt the tingle again. She was now positive the beer had nothing to do with it. The tingle was getting stronger and emanating from her loins. 'I'm prattling on about nothing,' she thought. 'Why not get right down to it,' she told herself. Goading herself, Rosa took a deep breath and said, "Why . . ." she stopped and cleared her throat.

"Why don't you get rid of those pants and come over here?"

"Why?" He asked with a knowing grin.

"Why? So I can suck your cock, that's why."

Dutch blinked twice. Otherwise his expression didn't change. He shucked his loafers and pulled off his pants and shorts in one efficient motion. He slung them over the edge of the dresser, one pant leg inside out.

Dutch turned and stood facing her in only his red shirt. Holding his stiff prick up like a flagpole, except from time to time it jerked involuntarily.

Rosa maneuvered herself to the edge of the bed and deftly fingered his rigid shaft as his cock, with an almost studied inevitability, moved toward those magnificent pouting lips. He wondered if they were real or collagen treated and then decided he didn't give a shit, for she was truly beautiful; so much better looking than any woman he'd had in years.

Rosa casually licked the surface of her palm, coating it with her saliva until it was soaking wet and slippery. She was wearing a silver slip over a black bra and a black french-cut bikini that was pulled very high so that it disappeared between her cunt lips. She had a small wispy black bush. With every breath she took, Rosa's cleavage rose and fell.

She was hot, very hot. Her lips were quite red. Her tongue, her hot, pink, wet tongue, kept licking the palm of her hand. Dutch sat watching her, waiting patiently, his cock fully engorged and hard as stone; its purple head was throbbing in time with each heave of her chest.

Nervously, he ran his fingers through his wiry pubic hairs, cupping his hot round balls in his fingers -- momentarily slipping the middle finger down to his anus and rubbing slightly. He didn't want to touch his dick, not while she was licking her hand. Finally, Rosa reached out for his towering cock and grasped it in her saliva-drenched hand. The dusky half-Mexican woman pumped the throbbing cock up and down, up and down, sliding her wet hand along his pole, greasing it with her spittle.

Her face was ecstatic.

He thought the feel of her slippery hand gripping him almost indistinguishable from the feel of her mouth or her cunt, except that she could grip it more tightly if she wanted to.

She gripped the top of her black brassiere with her free hand and pealed it down freeing one luscious breast for him to suckle, the other, meant to be freed, got caught in the material and remained covered.

Rosa moaned. He never knew whether it was his mouth on her turgid nipple or her longing for his glistening cock that caused it, for opened the sensuous gateway of her soft pink wet lips and lowered her head, enclosing his rock-hard prick between her lips.

Dutch closed his eyes and drifted off to another place as her mouth slid down, down, down. His massive organ was actually being squeezed tighter and tighter as it made its way down her esophagus.

But his eyes opened and widened even more when, after swallowing the entire length of his prodigious prick, Rosa absorbed an abundant amount of air in her nostrils, opened her jaw just a fraction wider and took both of his testicles into her mouth as well. Her eyes were upon him, seeking acknowledgement of her accomplishment.

"Jesus Christ!" He gasped, incredulous.

Laughing and choking, Rosa pulled her face free of Dutch's thick appendage, and after recovering slightly, proceeded to coat both her hands with a couple gobs of spit, gripped his cock like a baseball bat and jerked with all her might. He began to groan.

A great white volcanic orgasm overcame him sending his sperm flying everywhere; flooding her mouth; her nostrils; her ear; her stomach; his stomach and the sheets. Rosa spent the next few minutes regally spooning up his seed and slowly swallowing it as though it was the finest caviar. When she'd finished, he noticed her nostrils flare as if testing the air surrounding her.

"Mmmmm, you smell nice," she purred and licked her lips. "And not only on your face, but your tummy too. Did you plan on something happening here tonight?"

"That . . ." He began.

"Shush! You're getting hard again!" And Rosa's gifted tongue swirled around and around his slimy knob.

'Jesus, she was good!' He thought and arched neck back and concentrated on fighting off a fast eruption. To his chagrin, he realized this was his second time, the longer lasting fuck, and here he was struggling to keep from coming again.

'If only I could stop seeing her fucking lips on me.' He thought.

Rosa, for her part, was elated with the feeling of power it gave her. She decided to pull out all the stops; and brushing her fingers lightly over his swollen testicles elicited a loud gasp from him.

"Ahhhhh!" He moaned as her mouth nibbled on his cockhead; and ever so softly, those same fingers traced their way between the cheeks of his ass. Dutch's thigh muscles bunched, and his balls ratcheted upward in a tight, hot package against his groin. He pressed the sides of his palms firmly against the sides of her head, trying to halt her wet, moving lips from hastening his next ejaculation. His fingers tangled in her black hair. He felt the dusky tan, cool turns of her ears.

Rosa obliged him by slowing her motions, allowing him to slip from between her lips. "Am I giving you great head or what?"

"Don't stop now baby!" He said, although wanting this to last forever. Absentmindedly, he strummed her stiffened nipple with his thumb. She giggled silently at her power over him and sucked him in again. Dutch was sure he felt her lips move in a smile that dissolved the suckling pressures along the circumference of his cock. His legs had begun to shake.

Rosa felt him rock and tremble at the simplest movement of her mouth. 'Jesus, I just love this guy's cock' she thought. She too, wanted it to last as long as possible, and so she eased off, gently hooking her upper teeth on the ridge of his turgid member and paused, permitting herself to recall the magnificent orgasm he'd given her the night before. Then she felt him flex and came back from her daydream to the magnificent reality of his prodigious prick lolling around under her tongue.

"I think you'd better fuck me with that thing before I have to swallow a load half the size of Lake Tahoe," she told him, adding a broad smile.

She hopped off the bed and went over to the dresser and stood with her back to him and removed her brassiere and panties in a wink, leaving the slip on. The first thing he noticed was her ample breasts reflected in the mirror as she straightened up naked and posed coquetteishly.

'No doubt about it, she was built.' He told himself.

Her hand went up and teased her high-standing dark nipples.

'I could hang a hat on them,' he thought, 'they're like missiles.'

Rosa saw him looking at them in the mirror.

"Not too shabby for an old lady, eh?" She asked, hefting her right tit up with her hand.

"You're not so old." His erection jerked toward the ceiling. Rosa caught the movement and had to hold her self in check, she was that close to coming.

"Thirty-eight," she said and inwardly cursed herself because her voice had gone dry.

"I'm older than that." He replied his voice was thick and to distract her from noticing, he deliberately made his dick dance.

"Thirty-eight's old." She said slowly walking back to him.

"Shit, you look twenty-five or twenty-six."

Rosa smiled at him. "You know how to say all the right things, don't you?"

Dutch couldn't think of anything right to add.

With her right hand she gently pushed him back across the bed. She straddled him with her hips at his chest level, her left hand on his hardon behind her back.

"I want to show you something," she purred. And partly to distract him momentarily and partly because she was a woman, Rosa deftly removed the slip and tossed it to the floor.

"Look here." She said and spread herself with her right hand. He looked where she wanted him too. Protruding between her pressing fingers was the pierced, pink shaft of a clitoris that was over an inch long. It was as hard as he was, and he could see it pulsing along its tight underside with the beating of her heart.

"It did this while I was sucking you. Jesus you make me sooo fuckin' hot!"

Dutch said nothing. He just stared at her there. He had never seen anything quite like it. Rosa felt herself growing wetter and wetter under his gaze. With her knees on either side of his chest, she could feel her sex lips spreading apart and lowered herself a few sultry inches until the heat from her cunt melded with the heat from his cock. She moved herself gently back and forth on him with a feather-soft contact that bathed them both, where they touched, in the liquid silk that distilled like honeydew from deep within her.

He moaned at the very softness of her surrounding him.

She placed her palms on either side of his head and slowly lowered her face to his. His eyes closed softly, like those of a small child. She kissed him. They floated in that tender kiss for a delicate moment. Then she backed down, buried him within her heated folds and hammered her hips with unshackled fury until they both erupted together. It was unlike anything either of them had ever known before.

****

That was a week ago. A long week of fantasy-ridden frustration and now Rosa was going crazy. He'd kissed her goodbye and left. He hadn't called and she couldn't get him out of her mind. That smile, those muscles, and those eyes, those deep, penetrating eyes. How people looked at him when he came into a room.

And Mom . . . with all her whining and complaining; constantly berating her.

"Where is he? Did you suck his cock off?" A constant irritant, but even worse was the fact that she needed him. She needed that cock. 'Damn! Especially that cock!' she thought and then wondered what in hell was happening to her?

She kept her hair fixed the same way it had been that night they'd made love. She wore the same bracelets, the same earrings, the same style clothing, but of course, not the same clothing. People at the real estate office where she worked were looking at her. She kept losing her calculator. She would frequently catch herself staring at the fly area of men's pants, at the bumps behind the zippers of coworkers and clients alike. Rosa caught herself doing it even when the prospect's wife was standing there. One guy had even grabbed her ass, forcing her to slap him and lose a prospective sale.

He would call, she kept telling herself; he would call. She had chewed her nails to the nub and bitten most of the skin off her upper lip. Her nerves were frayed, she'd snapped at her daughter Kathy that morning then told her she was sorry but her period was making her miserable. Kathy nodded in acceptance and left for school.

'Jesus! Why doesn't he call?' Then she cursed; realizing she'd just burned a new blouse of Kathy's with the iron. An accident! Had he been in an accident? Or was there another woman?' She chewed more skin off her lip agonizing over his whereabouts. 'Why?' She asked herself. 'Why am I going nuttso over this bastard?' And she answered her own question. 'Because he'd brought her to a place she'd never been before. Yeah, yeah,' she reminded herself, 'she'd floated to climax with her vibrator countless times. She had been nibbled to ecstasy by various dates; by her husband and even the guy with the long tongue at the other real estate agency who made her cum four times on top of the big oak desk in his office. But never, ever had she come from a cock-generated orgasm before. She'd felt it coming on like a white-hot freight train. And despite all the woman's magazines and their bleating about cocks placing third behind electronics and tongues, his thick member had sent her further than she'd ever gone before.'

And she wanted to go there again and again and again.

The phone rang. She dropped the iron, just missing her toes. She forced herself to pick it up and turn it off before answering the ringing phone.

It was him! Rosa felt the delightful twinge of an orgasm on hearing his voice. He wondered if she was available for a couple of drinks later on.

At first Rosa wanted to tell him to fuck off, but didn't. She wanted his tool pounding into her as soon as possible, and so she invited him over, suggesting that sooner was better than later. When he said he could be there in thirty minutes, Rosa hung up and began crying tears of joy.

An hour later she had that cock again, right in front of her. They were in her family room, holding one another, sunk in a sea of giant beanbag cushions. Rosa had been to Jupiter the first time he put it to her. Now she lay on her tummy between his legs; her head near his knees; her left arm lounging across his thigh, her right hand trembling and trying to encircle that remarkable cock, fingers unable to get all the way around.

She was awed, and proud. Proud she had made it get like this again and so soon. It certainly was an exceptional object. For the first thirty-eight years of her life, she hadn't thought of cocks as isolated structures. They were erotic because of the sweet intrigue that went along with getting one into you . . . because of the romance and worries and the tenderness . . . and the love.

Rosa felt the spilling wetness between her legs, and endured a rushing blush of embarrassment at her lubricity. She looked down at her nipples as they alternately brushed against the slowly churning skin of his testicles. Her brown tips stiffened and sprouted out hard to meet the moving, rutted skin of him that was so different there. She watched in fascination as her probing nipple played up and over the tight, swollen length of him. Everything was diameters and heat. A delicious kind of electricity surged in her hips, and she felt as if the lower half of her body had become detached from the rest of her to float on a sea of animals snarling and growling. It seemed she had been swept away and was looking down at the scene from afar. Her brain grew dizzy as it boiled in the delightful lust. The rush was coming again. Not just the thought of the rush or the imagining of the rush, but the rush of the great climax itself. And Rosa was still to mount that hot, throbbing chunk of him.