Multiplication

Paul hated math. He loathed arithmetic, he despised algebra and geometry made him want to puke. A month short of his 19th birthday, he excelled at just about every other subject in school, but at maths he was a hopeless failure.

As he bent closer over his homework, trying to grasp just an inkling of what a co-sine might be and whether it had big tits, the doorbell rang. He heard his mother walk to the door to answer it, and two seconds later her voice rang out: "Paul, we've got an unexpected visitor."

Paul stepped from his bedroom and leaned over the landing to see who was calling. His heart leapt. Directly below him, chatting to his mother in the hallway was the delectable shape of his cousin Rosemary.

Paul had six first cousins, and was fond of them all. But Rosemary, 10 years his senior, had always been his firm favourite. When he was young, she had always looked out for him, and as he grew older, they had become firm friends.

But over the past two or three years, Paul had detected a difference in their relationship. Puberty's volcano had been welling up inside him for some time. Today, when he looked at Rosemary he saw a lot more than a friend with a laughter-lined face and a warm personality. He also saw round, shapely buttocks, broad, childbearing hips, a slender waist and, above all, the most wonderful pair of breasts on God's earth. When she was around, he often caught himself drinking in the contours of her body, longing to touch and caress those ample curves.

Rosemary, too, had noticed the change in their friendship. Whereas before, her role in their relationship had been that of tomboy older cousin, now she often flirted with him. Paul was a good-looking boy with a firm, muscular body, and Rosemary was secretly flattered by the way he looked at her.

At the school where she taught science she was regarded as something of a bookworm. She had not had a serious relationship with a man of her own age for three years, but like any red-blooded 29-year-old woman, Rosemary had physical needs and desires.

Unknown to Paul, she too desperately wanted their relationship to go further. She wanted him badly, and again unknown to Paul, that was the main reason for her visit today.

Blissfully ignorant of all this, Paul paused for a second at the top of the stairs to take in the view beneath. Rosemary was wearing a blue skirt and low-cut white cotton top. Paul gazed down her deep cleavage and felt a stirring in his pants.

He skipped downstairs, two at a time. "Well if it isn't Rosy Lee, my favourite cousin," he called out to her. "Have you come to check up on me?"

As he reached the foot of the stairs, Rosemary put a hand to his face and pecked him on the cheek. "Just tell me you're at last getting to grips with that maths, that's all."

Paul laughed and pulled a face. "Yuk," he said. "Please don't mention excrement quite so early in the conversation."

"Paul, don't be so vulgar," his mother chided him.

Rosemary interrupted. "Actually, Auntie Ruth, it occurred to me that I might be able to help Paul with his maths. As you may know, I studied maths right up to my first year of university, and although my degree is in physics and chemistry, my maths is pretty hot and I am a teacher. I was wondering if Paul would like some extra tuition during the school holidays – maybe even before."

"That's very kind of you Rosemary, but as you know money is tight and we couldn't afford to pay you much."

"Don't worry about that, Auntie Ruth. Just take me out for a nice meal to celebrate Paul getting a grade A in his maths exams. Do we have a deal?"

Rosemary was a woman used to getting her own way, and within two minutes it was agreed that Paul would attend his first extra-curricular maths session at Rosemary's house at 10am the following Saturday.

Ruth and Rosemary wandered off to chat about the progress of a dress Rosemary was making – ostensibly the reason for her visit – and Paul was left to reflect on Rosemary's gently undulating backside heading for the living room and what a wonderful world it was that he inhabited.

On Saturday, a day that Paul habitually regarded as an excuse for a long lie-in, he was up and about by eight. By 9.30 he was freewheeling on his bike down the cul-de-sac where he lived to make the five-mile journey across the city to Rosemary's house. His saddlebag was full of maths textbooks, his loins full of desire and his mind full of Rosemary.

His Auntie Gracie, his father's sister and Rosemary's mother, answered the door to the house she shared with Rosemary and her husband Basil. "My, you're early," she said. "Barely ten to ten. Basil's working today, but Rosemary will be down shortly."

Paul deposited his books on the dining room table, and sat down, pretending to read.

After two minutes, Rosemary came in. She was wearing tight blue ski pants and a scoop-neck pink cotton blouse that was secured above her breasts with just three buttons and descended only as far as her navel. The ski pants accentuated the undulating contours of her backside and legs, and the fabric of the top was so thin Paul could clearly see her black bra beneath it.

Rosemary flicked a strand of light brown hair from her forehead and bent over the table towards him to look at one of his books. As she did so Paul was rewarded with a view of her round and firm breasts, encased in a bra that barely contained them. She leaned forward further, and the blouse opened a little more, giving him an unrestricted view to the waistband of her ski-pants, with those priceless twin black and white mounds in between.

Apparently unaware of Paul's preoccupation, Rosemary flipped open the book cover and said: "Oh yes, Basic Trigonometry, I remember this one. Perhaps a bit too far advanced just for now, don't you think? We don't want to run before we can walk, do we?"

She turned a fond and smiling face towards Paul, and he took a split second to remove his gaze from her breasts and meet her eyes. Rosemary was gratified. Her choice of wardrobe today was no accident, and as she met his gaze, she deliberately reached inside her blouse to adjust a bra strap.

Paul reddened to his roots and Rosemary's brown eyes, fixed on his, twinkled mischievously. "There's one thing you must never forget over the next few weeks," she said, with heavy double entendre. "And that is that I am the teacher and you are the pupil. Do exactly as I say, and I guarantee – she paused wickedly for emphasis – I guarantee you will enjoy every minute of it."

She sat down opposite him. "Right, put the books to one side for a moment. I've put together some very basic algebra questions for you, and I'd like you to work on them for the next half-hour, so I can see roughly how far along the road you have come."

Rosemary pushed two sheets of foolscap paper across the table to him. He took out a pen and started scanning the questions, but found it difficult to apply himself to the task. His mind was elsewhere –on Rosemary's sparkling, wicked hazel eyes, on her big and sensuous mouth, her slender neck, her wonderful breasts. Paul took a deep breath and found himself inhaling Rosemary's subtle perfume, which didn't make things any better.

Just then, Gracie called out from the hallway. "I've got to pop into town for some stuff," she shouted. "I'll probably be about two hours. I'll get some fish and chips for our lunch on the way back, Rosemary."

With that the front door slammed, and Paul and Rosemary were left alone in the house.

Paul turned back to the algebra and began to see that Rosemary had chosen her questions wisely. The first two or three he found straightforward enough, but as he moved lower down the page, he found his mind stretched, though not stretched so far that he was incapable of making a decent stab at them.

Suddenly, his mind was distracted again. Rosemary's sandaled foot had brushed against his ankle. He moved his leg, but a moment later her foot slid up against him again, more lingeringly the second time. He moved once more, and a couple of seconds later her right foot descended on his left, swept slowly down his instep and returned to his ankle, brushing it repeatedly like a feather duster.

Paul did not move his leg this time. He raised his eyes nervously from his work to see Rosemary returning his gaze with an expression of deep longing on her face. She looked at him almost exactly as he remembered her looking at him when he had been a child, with a protective fondness and a shared sense of mischief. Only now there was something else there as well.

It was fiery, it was sultry and it was inviting.

Rosemary's foot, now naked, brushed slowly up Paul's left calf, inserting itself beneath the trouser leg on to his skin. They gazed at one another across the table. Paul felt himself redden again, but held her gaze and tried to return her unspoken language.

Rosemary responded. Her moist lips parted and her tongue slowly slid the circumference of her big mouth. Paul felt his breath catch in his throat and let out an involuntary groan. The hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle, his stomach tied itself in knots and his penis began to throb and harden. Was this really happening? Or was he still back home in bed, dreaming?

Rosemary's foot was now rubbing gently up and down his left thigh. She seemed to sense that his manhood was much aroused, and deftly slid her toes onto his crotch. To do so, she had to slide her chair back about a foot, which meant arching her back and pushing out her wonderful chest.

At the very moment that her red-polished toenails slid gently onto the tip of his penis inside his trousers, Paul was treated to the sight of Rosemary's black bra and its glorious contents pressing urgently against the thin, pink fabric of her blouse. He glimpsed a mound of white flesh between her buttons.

Paul wanted to pick up the table, fling it to one side and leap on top of her, but something in her steady, sensuous gaze told him that there was a better way, a sexier and far more gratifying way. He took a deep breath of her perfume and forced himself to hold her gaze and allow her to do as she would.

Rosemary's dainty toes had in a few seconds teased Paul into full arousal. His penis stood erect and throbbing. As Rosemary gazed into his eyes, she placed a thumb and forefinger on the table between them and mimicked the motion of pulling down a zip. Without taking his eyes from her, Paul reached between his legs and unzipped his trousers. Immediately Rosemary's slender foot slid inside. She moaned softly as she discovered he wore nothing beneath.

She hooked her toes around his shaft and pulled it free of his trousers. It sprang upwards like a puppet on a string. Slowly, sensuously, Rosemary began to slide her toes up and down his eager manhood, still holding his eyes with hers. Paul groaned with pleasure.

Then she leant back in her chair, lifted her left foot on to his crotch beside her right and began to squeeze and pound his organ between them. Paul stared back at her, dumbfounded with desire and disbelief. His breath came in little gasps. His heartbeat pounded deafeningly in his ears.

Now Rosemary held the tip of his penis between her big toes. She tugged gently at the foreskin on both sides, then slid her left toe the length of his shaft. As she did so, she pulled her pink blouse up above her breasts, exposing her black brassiere and the deep cleavage it held. Still holding his gaze, she licked her lips hungrily.

Paul took a deep breath, gazed at Rosemary across the table and placed his hand on a book. Falteringly, he motioned the action of unfastening buttons. Rosemary immediately understood. She removed her feet from his groin, stood up and came around to his side of the table. With her eyes fixed longingly on the long, erect penis protruding from his trousers, she bent to whisper in his ear: "Would you like to see my bedroom?"

Paul nodded eagerly, and she kissed his ear and nibbled his neck. Then she took his hand and led him to the stairs. "Ladies first," she breathed, and began slowly to climb, still holding his hand behind her back. At the second stair she took his hand and placed it against the soft fabric of the ski-pants covering her right buttock. As they climbed Paul softly stroked her curves and watched her sinuous body slowly move above him. At her bedroom door, he let his hand slide between her legs and Rosemary let out a prolonged shudder.

She closed the door behind them and pulled him against her, grabbing his head and kissing him wetly on the lips, her tongue wrestling with his, her hands slipping under his shirt to caress his skin. Then she turned her back to him, leaned against the wall and pulled him against her backside.

His penis, still engorged and free, pummelled her wonderful buttocks. He felt totally, hopelessly, wonderfully out of control.

Rosemary, too, was hot and moist with desire. But she sensed that if she acted quickly, there was still time to take the edge off Paul's passion before her ski pants became soaked in his frantic semen. She placed her right hand between her thighs, eased them slightly apart and reached back to seize Paul's wildly thrusting organ. Firmly she pulled it between her legs, and at the same time turned her head towards his and murmured: "Not so fast, darling boy, not so fast. First I want to show you something."

Paul ceased his frenetic thrusting and began to savour a more mellow sensation as Rosemary's fingers gently gripped his shaft. He groaned and bent to kiss the soft skin at the nape of her neck as her grip eased still more and she began softly to caress the tip of his penis with her thumb and forefinger. Then she shuffled him backwards and two feet to their right, so that the couple were now both facing the central mirror of three on her dressing table.

Paul, still kissing and nibbling Rosemary's neck, gazed at their reflections. Rosemary's eyes held his in the mirror. With her right hand she began stroking his penis with a greater urgency. With her left, she unfastened the top button of her blouse. Then her fingers unclasped the second and the third. Paul began to thrust harder into her right hand, but with chiding sighs and looks of mild chastisement in the mirror, she slowed him down.

First from one shoulder, then from the other, Rosemary slipped out of the thin cotton blouse. Paul eased it from her back and onto the floor. In the mirror her big, firm breasts strained against the black bra, which was cut in two deep curves, barely covering the top half of her undulating bosom. Paul found himself mesmerised by the reflected image of a small red rose, stitched at the bottom of her bra where the two cups joined. He kissed Rosemary's neck again. She tasted of perfume and salt.

Rosemary took Paul's right hand from her waist and guided it to her left breast. It felt firm and supple beneath the brassiere, and overflowed his palm. Paul slipped his fingers inside the fabric and Rosemary wedged his penis between her thighs, freeing both her hands to grip his buttocks from behind and pull his hardness against her.

Paul took his thumb and forefinger and began slowly to peel the left cup of her brassiere away from her breast, keenly watching the fruits of his own actions in the mirror. As he did so, Rosemary clenched him more firmly with her thighs and started to rock to and fro and from side to side.

Once again, Paul found himself close to the point of no return. The sensation in his loins was exquisite as Rosemary's thighs and crotch held him and moved against him. The sight of a huge, dark brown aureoled circle emerging from her bra was almost more than he could bear. He moaned loudly and felt a long shudder wrack his body. But still, somehow, he managed to match Rosemary's slow, languid rocking and swaying. The slow dance was not yet ready to become a samba.

Paul was amazed and gratified at the size and obvious arousal of the wonderful circle topping Rosemary's left breast. A full two inches of dark flesh was now visible in the mirror, but still her nipple remained encased in black cotton. Gingerly he slid the bra a fraction further down her breast and finally the tall, erect, magnificent black-brown summit broke free. He slid the eager nipple between the first and second fingers of his hand and felt it harden still further. Rosemary's eyes met his in the mirror and she groaned with pleasure. She arched her back and turned her lips to his. Her mouth opened and she licked his lips with her tongue. As she did so, the shudder of an unbidden orgasm rocked her body. A second tremor followed just a few seconds later.

Paul turned her around to face him and feverishly kissed his way from her mouth, down her neck to the exposed left nipple. He guided it hungrily into his mouth and bathed it with his tongue in slow sweeping strokes. Rosemary was beside herself with orgasmic pleasure. She reached behind to unclasp her bra and her two magnificent breasts spilled into Paul's face. Then she pushed him backwards so he fell onto the bed, followed him down and sat astride him. Grasping his penis with both hands, she slid down the bed and bent and covered its tip with kisses. Finally she slid it inside her mouth, and began to stroke it vigorously with her tongue.

Paul lay on his back and cupped his hands behind his head. In ecstasy and disbelief, he took in the scene before him. Rosemary knelt astride his knees, her light brown hair tangled and damp. Her head was raised slightly towards him, and still her hazel gaze met his. Her big round mouth held his penis in the grip of its velvet vice. Now she would slide it deep within, so that all he could see was her lips brushing his pubic hair. Now she would draw it slowly out, until the tip was again visible, pressing against her lips. And all the while it was inside her, she caressed the shaft and tip tirelessly with her muscular tongue.

At last she removed it completely from her mouth, and began to tease the tip with gentle licks, nibbles and kisses, smiling wickedly into his eyes. As she did so, her great breasts reappeared, hanging and swaying and brushing his kneecaps.

Paul groaned in exquisite delight. The most desirable woman on the planet bent her head before him, her lips softly brushing the tip of his penis, her tongue gently licking globules of moisture from its opening. He groaned through clenched teeth as his orgasm came upon him.

Rosemary took his penis in her mouth again and immediately a warm blast of semen shot inside her. She swallowed it all and continued to suck and kiss his organ as it slowly became more limp. Then she dismounted and lay down beside him, pulling his arm around her shoulders and resting her head upon his chest. They lay there for several minutes, hearts pounding, heavy breathing slowly subsiding. It was Paul who finally spoke. "Do you think we could try some multiplication later?" he whispered.

The couple lay silently in one another's arms for a few minutes. Paul was a teenager of considerable power and stamina. He played soccer for his school first team and regularly worked out. It wasn't long before his racing pulse had slowed to normal and his breathing had become steady and rhythmical again.

As he lay caressing the soft skin of Rosemary's shoulder, it dawned on him that although he had just enjoyed his first frenetic and frantic sexual experience with her, he had still not laid eyes upon her most intimate parts. He decided that now would be a good time to begin a little exploration.

He eased his left hand down the side of her body to her slender waist and squeezed the skin gently. Rosemary stirred slightly beside him. Then he slipped the hand beneath the waistband of her ski pants and found the tops of her buttocks. He slid it further down and began to caress the velvet skin inside. She felt soft and smooth, and soon his limp penis, still peeking from his trousers, began to stir once more. She smelt of body oil, perfume, musk and womanhood.