Editor's note: this story contains scenes of rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, or non-consensual sex.
Chapter 1
God, I am getting fat, Rosie thought. She was admiring herself in the full-length mirror that covered one wall of her dressing area. In the next room, water was churning into the tub, sending into the air mists of steam mixed with bubbles from the dissolving perfumed bath powder. She turned and glanced at the reflected image. She was proud of what she saw. If she were to be seen now, her age would be estimated at twenty-five at the most, and hardly at her real age of thirty-eight. Her skin was soft and smooth, pink with the rosy health of youth, and tight over the spots that normally sagged as one approached forty.
She ran her hands along her sides and over her waist. The fullness of her rounded hips felt good under her touch as the skin rounded out before joining her rounded thighs. Then she reached around and cupped the thick muff of pubic hairs that covered her lovely pussy. Almost instinctively her finger probed the lips for the hidden clit. A shiver of excitement raced through her body. Not waiting to savor the sensation, Rosie continued her explorations, passing across the rounded belly and up the firm breasts that waited so patiently for her approach.
They were large breasts, the kind that are round and fully-formed. She noted that they were almost perfect, hanging against her chest like large, pendulous globes. Rosie lifted them from underneath, one in each hand. They felt heavy, and she could barely contain the expansive flesh in her palms. Immediately the nipples hardened, and goose bumps appeared everywhere on her body.
Rosie had been married to Harold for twenty three years, and they were relatively happy. They hardly fought because Harold knew how to sweet-talk Rosie, gave her mandatory sex, whispered a few endearing words, and make her feel like a queen. Harold made love to Rosie, in his own fashion, once a week usually on Saturday nights. It was vanilla sex, no licking, anal, or birching. Rosie would make a special dinner for Harold on Saturdays; he did not have to work, and he was relaxed and he was in a good mood.
Because it was a Saturday night, Rosie wore a sexy dress, a special dress. It made her feel wanton, sexy, slutty because the hem was far up her thighs, like the style from the 70's. It had buttons down front, and was a scoop neck. It was a short dress, hemmed high above her dimpled knees and it slipped easily up her thighs. She was careful not to drink too much or else she would get giddy and Harold did not think giddiness was sexy. She wore nylon panties cut high on her hips, a French cut. This left much of her pubic hair exposed because Harold got a hardon when he saw her pubic hairs.
The dress revealed a lot of breast cleavage and after some glasses of port after dinner, the cleavage was an open invitation to Harold. She would sit on his knees, being overly flirtatious because it was Saturday and Harold would be in the mood. He reached around her, made her open her legs, and ran his hands up her thighs to her crotch. He slipped his fingers under the panties band, where the labia was wet and oily, and he found her clitoris to be hard and protuberant. Harold's diddling drove her crazy, making her squirm uncontrollably over his hard cock.
They had a son, Paul. Paul is tall and he is taller than Harold. He is nineteen, and was no dummy when it came to sex. He'd been with a few girls, but there was something special about his mother. She really enjoys sex, he thought, when he overheard the moans on Saturday night, and the filthy words she screamed at Harold. Her bedroom was next to his, and Rosie must have assumed -- she thought -- he was innocent but he wasn't. He tried to imagine what it would be like to fuck her, what it would be like to have his own mother's pussy nipping at his cock.
His cock was gigantic and well formed!. The knob was a big, mushroom-shaped slab of flushed meat and the underside of his stalk was seamed by a thick, dark ventral vein, pulsing with his racing bloodstream. He'd been thinking about his mother a lot lately. The first time he thought about it he'd felt guilty as hell, but now he was used to the idea of it and all it did was turn him on. He was sure she had a lot of hair on her pussy, but what he really thought about was that dark hairy pucker sucking on his dick until he shot his load up her silky bowels. Paul was in love with her ass.
Chapter 2
Harold drove a fork lift, and he worked for Home Depot or Lowe's depending on the season. There was a cashier working at Lowe's who thought Harold was too good looking for words and she made eyes at Harold whenever she saw him and especially when they both worked the late shift. Her name was Lottie. They would go out in the parking lot, and make out in the wide, back seat of Harold's old Hudson Hornet. It had been restored and there was no way Harold would ever sell that Hornet. Lottie was a hot-assed woman, and she leaked, and dribbled juices when she was aroused and when she climaxed she would most times squirt. Harold was ambivalent about Lottie squirting because it stained the upholstery and left the odor of pussy. As much as he tried, using cleaners and soaps, he could not get all the odor out of the car. When they drove to church on Sunday morning, Rosie could smell the distinctive pussy smell and she knew Harold was fooling around on the side.
Harold felt Paul should have some kind of job. He spent too much time in his room, with the door closed. Rosie did not look forward to going into Paul's room because it was messy and smelled. Paul threw his dirty socks on the floor, his underwear here and there and the sheets on his bed were crusted with cum. The laundry hamper was in the bathroom and she felt Paul should have his own hamper. Paul did not finish high school because he was home schooled. He got into fights at school and he was rude to his teachers. Because he did not go to school he felt he was better than the other kids. He had an attitude, and when he spoke to people -- whether at church, or a job interview -- he would look down on them.
Harold would not let Paul drive the Hornet because of the smell of pussy and did not want comments or questions about the smell. He bought Paul a four-door used Toyota Camry. Having sex in that car was almost impossible because there was not much room to lie down. Harold bought the car for Paul because Paul did not have a job. Paul interviewed poorly and he felt the HR people who interviewed him were corporate lackeys. They would ask him where he wanted to be in five years and he had no idea where he would be next week. He had no computer skills and his cell phone was a reconditioned iPhone.
Paul felt his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had long hair past her waist, dark brown, and she brushed it every night before going to bed. Harold told her to wear her hair down, not up in a bun. But Rosie at thirty-eight was a beautiful woman, fleshy, and highly sexual. She loved her body.
Why, then, couldn't she find a real man? Being married to Harold was more like a job.
"Oh, hell," she said bitterly.
What was the point in speculating? She only knew that she needed a real man desperately and that she wasn't finding any. Night after night her body ached for a partner, for someone to appease her incessant lust, the deep burning need in her pussy. And all she could do was relieve herself with her own fingers.
"No..."
She had to be careful now. Could she risk rubbing her ever-hungry joy-button, quickly bringing herself off? She needed it badly. Her cunt burned with excitement, and she felt her plump pussylips moistening with arousal. It felt so nice.
"Ummmm ..."
In the mirror she saw the rich pink of her inner cuntlips, her finger rubbing gently and lovingly over the scarlet nub of her ripe clit. A bright rivulet of vaginal juice trickled lazily down her thigh. Her expert finger rubbed harder, faster. It was good, it would work, but, oh, God, how much better it would feel to have a stiff, long cock inside her.
She rubbed her finger more briskly back and forth over her wet, rubbery clit, and bursts of pleasure rocked her body. Creamy pussy-juice boiled in her aroused cunt and trickled down her inner thighs. She tried to imagine that a man was about to make love to her, his cock rigidly stiff and thick.
"Yesss ..." she murmured.
She slid her stiff finger deeper between her tensed thighs till she was rimming the dripping mouth of her hot, aroused cunt. She started to slip her finger inside herself, when she suddenly sensed that she wasn't alone in the room. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she glanced into her mirror.
She saw Paul standing in the doorway of her room. He was grinning at her, feeling a little embarrassed that he hadn't knocked.
"I'm going out to play some football at the school yard. I'll be back for supper."
Chapter 3
One night she told Harold she saw Jesus. He appeared while she was brushing her hair and said "Soon ..." It did not bother her that Jesus was in her room. She did not give that a second thought, but it puzzled her why He would say what He said. 'Soon'. What did that mean?
Harold shrugged it off, figuring she had maybe too much to drink. But Jesus appeared again a week later. On the same day of the week. Thursday. He watched her brush her hair, for a long time it seemed and then He said it again: "Soon ..."
Rosie didn't want to tell Harold that Jesus appeared again because Harold felt people who went to church were wasting their time. He had no use for organized religion. Harold asked her why Jesus was in her bedroom. And then Harold asked her why Jesus said only one word and did Jesus have an accent, like someone from the Middle East. Rosie wondered about that.
After Jesus appeared for the third time, Harold told Rosie she should talk to someone about it. Definitely not the preacher because Harold had no use for the preacher. He thought preachers were free-loaders.
Harold came home from work one night and told Rosie they were going to see a doctor about Jesus. Harold was troubled and he had told Lottie about it, but all Lottie wanted to do was have fun in the parking lot, and wasn't much interested in talking about Jesus.
The doctor did what Harold thought he would do. Rosie was put into a mental ward at the hospital where she could be watched. They did not want her to harm herself because the doctor felt 'soon' meant it was time for Rosie to go.
Harold visited Rosie every day before he left for work, and sat in a room where visitors could sit and watch TV with other people under observation. Harold was not allowed in Rosie's room, only in the common room. After three weeks Rosie was told she could go home, and Harold picked her up and it seemed to Harold, Rosie had changed. She walked around the house naked and when Harold told her she should be dressed properly she told Harold the body didn't really matter. The spirit was important.
She wore skimpy dresses, even when she went out to the supermarket. She began shopping at the Goodwill Store and she told Harold they had the latest fashions at Goodwill. None of the dresses she bought cost more than five dollars. She bought clingy polyester tank tops and without a bra, her boobs looked almost obscene with her big nipples sticking out. She began wearing dresses, shorter than she usually wore, so her bottom cheeks were on display.
Chapter 4
Rosie felt she should spend more time with Paul and when he was out playing on the high school football field with his buddies she would go and watch him.
"It's kinda hard to keep our mind on practice when we can look up your dress," Paul said, then he gave a quick laugh. "Who wants to practice when we can look at you?" They were back home, watching TV in the living room.
