The summer went on and the only thing that made me unhappy was that all this great sex was going to end when my mother came back and we went home from Grandma's. It was still hard for me to remember to call her Francis-when I had my cock buried in her or was flicking her clit with my tongue it was OK, but the rest of the time I often forgot. Not that it mattered much. And Rose came over after work two or three times a week to be caressed, nibbled, sucked, licked, and fucked into a state of quivering orgasmic ecstasy. Frankly, I was getting worn out, but I managed to satisfy all the needs of these two horny older women. But I knew it couldn't last.
One morning, a couple of weeks before my mom was due to return, around 10 o'clock, I heard a knock on the back door. I wasn't really expecting anyone-I was just watching cartoons on TV, dressed once again in baggy jogging shorts because of the heat.
I went to the back of the house, wondering who it could be. Almost nobody came to the back door except people who knew Francis and took a shortcut between two houses in back of hers. I opened the door and was surprised to see Rose.
"Hi Rose, come on in," I said. "What's the problem?" Rose never came over except after work with Francis when she wanted me to fuck her.
"No problem, I just need to talk to you."
"Ok, come on in the living room."
As she preceded me the few steps to the living room I noticed that she wasn't dressed in the usual yellow housedress that was her work uniform. I don't think I had ever seen her in any clothes except her uniform, unless you count her panties, bra, and often pantyhose. Today she was wearing a pair of longish shorts and a sleeveless blouse and sneakers. She looked like somebody's mom on her way to the grocery store. She was carrying a small plastic bag.
She hadn't made any sign that she was interested in sex, so I just followed her and sat down on the armchair across from the couch where she was sitting. What did she want to talk to me about? It must have something to do with our love-making activities. Or maybe she just wanted me to help her plan a surprise birthday party for Francis. Maybe she wanted me to work on her car. I didn't know, but I was eager to find out.
"Ray, I want to tell you how good it's been these past few weeks, coming here and being satisfied sexually by you. You're very good at what you do, and I think it's wonderful that you're willing to give all your sexual attention to two old ladies that are more than 35 years older than you are."
"Well, Rose," I began, "I don't know why, but I really love older women. You and Francis are the kind of women I would fantasize about before my fantasies came true. You know that."
"It has nothing to do with the fact that you don't have to make any effort - you just wait for three o'clock and two horny women to come and beg you to fuck them? You don't have to go out hunting for pussy?"
She smiled as she said this, and I smiled in return. "That works both ways. You know if you come over here all you have to do is pout your lips and say "pleeeease fuck me" and you've got a horny 18-year-old to satisfy your every desire. In fact you don't even have to pout and say please-you know I've got a hard-on for you just thinking about you coming up the walk."
"Fair enough," she said, still smiling. I can't deny that I'm having the best time of my life. What woman of my age wouldn't want to have a young stud fuck her every other day? And I enjoy how much you appreciate my body-- especially when I wear pantyhose-I know I'm flabby and saggy, and yet you don't seem to mind. But you know what I like best of all? I like it best when you look into my eyes as you tongue my pussy and make me cum. I like looking into your eyes while I'm coming."
I had to agree. My favourite part of pleasuring Rose was when she slid her cunt forward to the edge of the couch and I licked her pussy as I gazed upwards, past the mounds of her puffy-nippled tits and into her eyes. It really got me off to see her face contort and her eyes go glassy as she came rubbed her throbbing pussy over my face.
"Physically," she went on, "it's grand. But emotionally-well, I don't know. I know there's no relationship between us except the physical-I don't know you and you don't know me. It's not that I'm in love with you. I just want some attention that is just for me. Yeah, I think that's what I've been feeling. When we make love, Francis is always there, and although she approves and helps makes it even better by watching and talking to us, and I get excited when I watch you fuck her , I feel like you're not paying attention to me as a person. I feel like a sex object."
I was surprised, but it made sense. Perhaps my main reason for doing such a good job in pleasing Rose was to make things even more exciting for Francis. I had a relationship with her-I had thought for 18 years that she was my grandmother-and I was genuinely fond of her even when we weren't having sex. Maybe I hadn't paid enough attention to the person named Rose and had just used her as a sex partner.
"I see what you mean, Rose. I hadn't really thought of that and I'm sorry. You're right, I don't know you and I should -- I should be your friend as well as your sex partner."
"My personal fuck machine, you mean," said Rose, smiling. But I noticed that her eyes were moist like she was going to cry.
Now at age 18 I can't claim that I had a lot of emotional insight, but I could see that Rose needed a sympathetic ear right now, so I said, "Tell about me yourself, Rose."
"Oh, Ray, what's to tell? I'm 55, I've got two kids in college, and I've got a husband who doesn't even know I exist unless dinner's late. He's a good man-he doesn't drink or run around on me, provides a good income for us, likes my family, doesn't try to control me, but he hasn't looked at me for 5 years and hasn't touched me for at least that long. We never argue, but if we did at least I'd know he was alive. But, when he's gone-he went on a business trip last year-I know there's something missing in my life. I guess I'm just an old boring married woman."