The Graduate Student
written by:
Joshua

I'd finally decided to go back to school to work on my doctorate in American History. Yes, it was late in life for me, but I believe we never stop learning, and that we should always seek the opportunity to broaden our chances at job and life advancement by doing whatever is necessary to learn more than we already know. So, it was off to the university I went, my notebooks and pencils in hand, ready to dive headfirst into advanced learning. Over the course of the next few days, I discovered much had changed since those days when I'd worked on a bachelor's degree. I had some idea of the level of work I had before me, but after seeing the reading list and the amount of material I had to review just for the first class, I knew I'd be spending much of my time at the campus library. So, for the first three weeks, I found myself at the library every moment I wasn't in class or at home reading book after book just to keep up.

There were two other reasons I'd decided to go back to school at this point in my life. The first was that an injury to my leg had required that I take the next year off just to heal. My physician told me that between the required therapy and healing process, the best remedy for success was to stay off the leg. So, I took a leave of absence from my teaching job and enrolled in the doctorate program at the university. But the other reason it was opportune for me to go back to school was because my wife of fifteen years decided that rather than stay married to me, she'd rather have her bosses cock shoved in her pussy. The divorce was ugly, but because it had been me who caught the bitch being fucked on the hood of my car in the garage, she was forced to pay me a monthly support payment. I'm glad there were no children involved.

One perk of being an advanced graduate student was that we were assigned a private, closet-sized office on the fifth and topmost floor. It was just large enough for a desk, computer and printer, and shelves for the many, many books we needed for research. Another perk was that the library remained open until after midnight, and there was always a research librarian on duty in addition to the standard librarian. The research librarian was well-versed in where to locate hard-to-find materials such as manuscripts and out of print books, and other materials that could be hundreds of years old. The research librarian at the university was Rose, a woman who seemed to be just slightly older than me by ten years or so. I'd involved Rose several times in finding materials for me, and she always seemed happy to help.

Rose was a unique woman, actually. She wasn't very tall, except on the days she wore three or four inch heels. Her brunette hair was streaked with grey, and the wide, black-framed glasses she wore gave her the appearance of being quietly distinguished. I estimated Rose's age to be somewhere in the mid-fifties, although she could have been closer to sixty years of age. Behind her glasses, she had these deep, chocolate brown eyes that seemed to smile at everyone she met, and her figure was exactly what you'd expect of a woman in her fifties: not overweight, but she certainly didn't have a model's figure either. There had been a few occasions when her hand brushed mine as she handed me a book or paper I'd requested and I marveled at how soft her skin was. And I have to admit that because it had been some time since I'd had sex, there were a few times when I stole a look at Rose's ass. It was shapely, not slim, but I was certain that her husband probably didn't mind finding himself behind those two shapely ass cheeks, pounding away at her pussy with his cock. Rose always dressed well, perhaps even overdressing on occasion, usually arriving at the library wearing a dress and high heels. In addition to dressing stylishly, Rose always wore makeup, not so thick that she resembled a hooker, but not so thin that she looked plain, either.

But it was her tits that seemed to always gain my attention whenever I was around Rose. Just as happens to many older women, her tits had become heavy with age, and, larger. I wasn't certain of it, but I was willing to wager that Rose's bra size was not the same twenty years ago as it was today. Or, perhaps even ten years ago. I guessed her tit size to be at least 38dd, perhaps larger. Each time Rose bent over my desk or showed me where I could find some hard to find book, her tits brushed my arm or hand. My body's reaction was immediate and it took great effort on my part to keep my cock from bursting through my trousers and Rose being able to see the effect she had on me. It had been so long since I'd has sex that even the slightest view of a set of tits could very easily have caused me to orgasm in my jeans.

There were a few times, when Rose was the night shift research librarian, that she and I might be the only people on the fifth floor where the doctoral student's rooms were and where the majority of the material I needed could be found. The farther along I went from my divorce, the longer I went without sex. When I'd been married, even though my wife was cheating on me, we still had sex at least three nights a week. But now that my sexual supply had been cut off, I needed hardly any type of stimulation at all to set my cock to raging. So, each time Rose touched me, even though the move was certainly innocent and unintentional, just having a woman's touch on my hand, or any part of my body for that matter, caused my cock to rise and become exceptionally hard. So far, I don't think Rose noticed the effect she had on me, probably thinking that she was too old to have that type of effect on a man. But there was no doubt: she did have a sexual effect on me, but I had no idea how to act on it. Besides, as I said, Rose was married, and I had an enormous amount of work ahead of me before I'd be awarded the doctorate in history I'd wanted for a very long time. So, I resigned myself to achieving high grades while using Rose's expertise in obtaining research materials.

I was in the library one rainy, early winter evening working on the proposal for my dissertation when I realized there were at least three sources I hadn't mentioned in the paper. I immediately rose from my seat and moments later, found myself on the first floor at Rose's desk. The desk was empty, and when I asked the normal evening shift librarian where Rose might be, she told me Rose had stepped out for a few moments after receiving a call from her husband. I decided to wait, but when Rose hadn't reappeared after fifteen minutes, I decided I'd grab a quick snack from the small break room on the second floor then return to hopefully find Rose once again at her desk. I rode the elevator to the second floor and exited the car. The break room was located at the end of a semi-dark hallway. I was halfway down the hallway when I heard the distinct sound of sobbing coming from the stairwell. I stopped and listened, unsure what to do. Something inside of me, however, always feels the need to come to the rescue, and so, I opened the door and followed the crying sounds down one set of stairs to find a woman with her back to me, her face pressed into the corner of the wall. The rubber soles on my shoes allowed me to move quietly, and it was when I was just at the crying woman when she suddenly turned and saw me. It was Rose, leaning back into the wall, her glasses in her hand, and streaks of dark mascara staining her cheeks. Rose immediately drew back into the corner, my presence startling her, her face painted with fear. She stared at me through red-lined eyes as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

"Oh, my, Ben, you startled me!" Rose said as she leaned back into the corner. "I didn't hear you coming." I was unsure what to do, so I stood silently, not sure whether I should comfort her or excuse myself and return to my cubicle. But, because I was concerned about Rose, I stayed, my eyes glued to Rose. I quickly remembered the handkerchief in my pocket, handed it to Rose, and waited while she daubed her eyes and wiped the streaked mascara from her face. After a few moments, Rose excused herself, saying something about getting the handkerchief back to me after she ran it through her laundry. She made her way down the stairs and disappeared from sight. I returned to my cubicle and continued to work on the dissertation. When I departed the library just before midnight, I passed by Rose's desk and noticed that she'd posted a sign saying she was gone for the evening.

Two days later, I was, as usual, in the small and closed office when I heard a soft knock at the door. I was surprised to find Rose at the door with the handkerchief I'd given her to dry her eyes in her hand. With something of a sheepish smile on her face, Rose extended her hand toward me and said, "Ben, I wanted to apologize for the other evening. I'm afraid you found me at a bad moment. I wanted to thank you for the use of your handkerchief." I looked to her hand to see she'd cleaned the small patch of linen, now lying neatly folded in her hand. "I washed it for you," she said, her eyes once again downcast, staring at the floor. I removed the handkerchief from Rose's hand and turned toward my small desk when I heard the unmistakable sound of weeping again. Turning toward Rose, I saw her leaning against the door frame, her hands to her eyes again, her entire body rising and falling as a result of the obviously intense sadness that once again had engulfed her body. Without thinking, I quickly moved around Rose, guided her into the small, cramped office, and closed the door behind her. We were alone now, standing closely against each other because of the limited amount of space. Rose accepted the handkerchief again and immediately began to use it to dry her eyes and try to somehow stop the river of dark, black mascara once again causing streaks on her cheeks. Now that the door was closed, Rose's sobs increased in volume, as did the actions of her body. She leaned against me, her head buried in my shoulder, and wept for several long moments until the tears dried and her body stopped heaving. "I'm sorry, again, Ben," rose said against my now tear-stained shirt. "I really shouldn't be in your office, taking your time, crying against you." Rose attempted to step back away toward the door, but I placed my hands in her shoulders and instead, turned her and guided her to an extra chair located by the small desk. Rose sat heavily, the hem if her dark brown-colored dress riding a few inches upward to reveal her dark-hued tights and two shapely knees. For the next few minutes, Rose didn't look at me, simply staring at the floor as she dabbled her eyes with the now soaked handkerchief. Finally, she raised her head, returned her glasses to the bridge of her nose, and looked at me.

"You know, Ben, I might as well explain to you why you've found me twice now sobbing my heart out," she said, her eyes locked onto mine. "I wouldn't tell you these things if you were the normal twenty-something year old graduate student, but I know you're older and that you've had a life outside the university." Another dab at her eyes, and Rose continued. "Ben, my husband of twenty-five years is leaving me for, of all people, the morning librarian here at the library." When I made no response, Rose continued by saying, "Ben, the morning librarian is a young man we hired a year ago: evidently, he and my husband have been having a homosexual relationship for at least six months or more." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean it's one thing to leave a woman for another woman, but I had rarely, if ever, heard of a man leaving his wife for another man. Not that I have anything against homosexuality: no, I believe that as long as everyone is a consenting adult, and as long as no one is getting hurt, then people have the right to do what they wish. I found myself at a complete loss for wards, so I continued to sit quietly. That is, until Rose once again began to sob deeply. Deciding she needed a friend at that moment, I stood, brought her to her feet, and embraced her, wrapping Rose in my arms and letting her weep once again onto my chest. Rose wrapped her arms around me too, the first time I'd felt my body in her embrace, and wept, murmuring words I could not understand. But it didn't matter, really, because I knew how Rose felt and after sitting her down again, the evening's research now shot, I described to Rose how I'd discovered my now ex-wife on the hood of our car. Even Rose seemed surprised at that tidbit of news, and shared a laugh with me when I said I'd been forced to buy a new car because my ex-wife had a special attraction to our old car. Suddenly, Rose seemed better, calmer, and after chatting a few moments, I decided I'd had enough research for one day, and informed Rose I was starving. I invited her to dinner, and was happy when she accepted. She followed me in her car to a small, Italian restaurant where we spent the remainder of the evening. When we parted at the end of the evening, Rose leaned forward and kissed me gently on the cheek. "Thank you, Ben," she said. "I can't thank you enough for the excellent conversation, but mostly, for your concern for me." I watched her drive away, feeling good about not only creating a new friendship, but also because I realized I was attracted to Rose.

And why not, I asked myself? I mean, I was older than the average graduate student, and I'd certainly had a ton of life experiences. And, Rose and I shared the same traumatic event in our lives, and that alone caused us to come closer in feelings. But I wasn't sure Rose felt the same about me, and so, I drove home, thinking of her and her shapely ass, but mostly, my thoughts centered on Rose's tits. Each time she'd attempted to make a point in our conversation at the restaurant, she'd touched my hand and leaned forward so that she didn't have to speak loudly. And with each forward leaning, those tits either rested on my arm or they pressed against my side. And with each contact, my cock grew under the table, gratefully out of sight and where I could adjust it without being seen by Rose.

Three days after my dinner with Rose, I was back in my small office when she arrived unexpectedly. To my surprise, Rose arrived with several aluminum foil-covered pans full of piping hot food fit for a king. "Move those books, Ben," she said, "I've brought your dinner." I was amazed not only at the quantity of the food, but moreso by the quality. The food was excellent and because I'd been living on fast food and burgers too often lately, I readily accepted the food. Rose had even thought to bring a bottle of wine along and together, we enjoyed the food and, once again, excellent conversation. I could tell Rose was avoiding the subject of her husband, however, and chose to wait and see if Rose wished to discuss her situation or not. Finally, the meal ended, and Rose and I packed up the leftovers and she prepared to leave. When I thanked her yet again, Rose simply placed her hand on my right arm, and said, "No, Ben, it is I who should thank you. You see, cooking for you has made me feel almost like a real woman again." Again, a quick kiss on the cheek, and Rose left my office. I sat and thought about her comment and realized that because her husband had left her for another man, Rose needed some form of reaffirmation that it hadn't been her who had caused her husband to be attracted to cock: no, it was his desires, his way of life now.

The next week, I was again at a loss and needed a difficult to find book. It was the diary of a woman who'd recorder her travels across the prairie on her way to the west coast in a covered wagon. I'd searched the library for the diary, but realized it was located in the research library, a locked set of rooms to which only the library staff had access. I'd been in this small series of rooms before, but never with Rose. It was here that the older books and letters were kept locked away because of their fragile condition. Rose led me to the research library, and, as library rules required, she remained with me while I was in the series of shelves and small desks.

Rose was unsure where the diary was located, so she allowed me to make my way down one row of shelves while she made her way down another. Each of us wore white, cotton gloves to protect the materials from the natural oils and fluids our bodies produced. Although thick shelves of books separated us, the quiet in the room allowed me to hear the sound of Rose's high heels clicking softly on the tiled floor as she searched for the diary. After several moments of searching, I heard Rose call my name and found her two rows over, holding the diary in her white-gloved hands. I found her leaning against the bookshelf, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, her glasses riding in the tip of her nose. Rose turned the pages of the diary slowly, her eyes glued to the pages. She was reading the pages of the diary slowly, her eyes riveted to the handwritten words that were more than one hundred years old. Without looking at me, Rose said, "You know, Ben, one reason I enjoy this job is because it provides me with the opportunity to step back in time, to connect with those who came before us." I could tell Rose had something on her mind, so I remained silent and let her speak. "And I've seen this diary before," she said, raising her chin to look into my eyes. "And do you know what I like best about this simple diary, Ben?" she asked. Again, I remained silent. "What I like most about these old books is that they describe women who knew how to be women. They were tough, but kind. They were protective, but could also be sexy, under the day's standards, of course." She closed the book gently and said, "Yes, Ben, they knew how to be women, which, by virtue of my husband leaving me for another man, I seem to have failed at miserably." Rose dropped her chin again, still reading the somewhat faded words on the brown and very old pages. "I wish I'd been a better woman, Ben. Perhaps if I had, maybe been sexier, maybe dressed more provocatively, then perhaps Gary wouldn't have left me."

By now, tears streamed down Rose's face as she held the old book in her hands. Rose lifted her chin, looked at me, and turned away from me, her back to me now, but the obvious heaving of her shoulders the sure sign that she was exceptionally sad now, her belief in her ability that she was a real woman now in doubt. Not sure what I should do, I turned Rose to face me now, and embraced her in my arms. Rose didn't resist and folded her body into mine, lifting her arms and wrapping the around my shoulders as well. Rose and I remained in this position for several long, quiet moments before she finally stepped back, wiped her tears away with her sleeve, and said, "I'm sorry, Ben. I didn't mean to cry on your shoulder." Rose handed the diary to me, mumbled something about needing to return to her desk, and escorted me out of the research library. "I need to return to my desk, Ben," she said. Just before entering the elevator alone, she turned to me and said, "Let me know if you need anything else." I returned to my office and continued on the massive amount of writing I had ahead of me. It was after midnight before I arrived home, exhausted, but unable to get Rose off my mind.

The next day was Sunday, and I'd decided I needed a break from writing, researching, and staring for hours on end at old, dusty books. That evening, as I sat in my den watching a football game when I heard the sound of my doorbell. At first, I decided I didn't need or want visitors, so I remained seated. But when the doorbell rang again and again, I stomped to the door and opened it quickly, prepared to tell whoever was there to go away. But, to my surprise, I found Rose at my door, and, as she'd done before, she'd brought several foil-covered tins of hot food. "Rose!" I said as I extended my arms and helped her with the containers. "What are you doing here?" I asked. Rose quickly explained that she felt bad about the recent episode in the research library when she'd cried but that she also wanted to show her appreciation for my friendship by bringing dinner. I escorted Rose to the kitchen where Rose placed the tins of food on the counter while I poured two glasses of red wine and sat the half-empty bottle on the kitchen table.

Because I'd had my back to Rose while I poured the wine, I hadn't heard her remove her coat. To say that I was stunned by her appearance once she removed the thick garment would be an understatement. As I extended my hand and offered Rose a glass of wine, I saw that she'd elected to wear a yellow-colored, very low cut blouse that displayed a severe line of cleavage I'd only guess existed before. I mean, it was easy to tell that Rose had a huge set of tits, even when she wore the normal thick sweater. But now that the two huge melons were in partial view, I found myself unable to catch my breath. Under her revealing blouse, the outline of Rose's matching bra, itself huge, announced its presence. A black skirt covered Rose's waist while her legs were encased in black, seamed stockings and her weight supported by the same four inch heels she wore on a daily basis. "Ben, I can't thank you enough for all the support you've provided me," she said as she stared at me from a distance of less than six feet.

I was glad that only a short distance separated Rose and myself because the more I stared at the amazing line of cleavage, the harder my cock became under the loose trousers I'd decided to relax in. I knew that if I had been standing across the room, Rose would have had more room to observe the growing bulge in my pants and, because she's an intelligent woman, would easily realize that the cause of my hardon had been her and the amazing view of those two, very large titties. When I told Rose that I would always be her friend, Rose again stated that she wished her husband had felt the same because she'd received a call that very afternoon from him. When I asked what he'd had to say, Rose dropped her chin again, and through yet another set of tears, explained to me that he said he'd never really loved Rose and that the reason he became attracted to men was because she was a terrible lover. Although her face was hidden by the thick covering of brown hair covering her head, I saw a tear roll off her chin and fall upon her left tit. Rose lifted her right hand to her semi-hidden face and attempted to wipe away her tears of sorrow. I quickly handed Rose a box of facial tissues, which she used to wipe her face. Finally, she lifted her chin, looked at me, and said, "Is it possible that he could be right, Ben? I mean, is it possible I was that rotten in bed?"

It was obvious, at that instant, that Rose had come to my house for more than dinner. Her faith in herself as a woman, as a lover, was shaken, and I knew that she'd brought dinner simply because she needed someone to talk to. But the more I looked at her, the more I heard her words indicating a lack of self-confidence, and the longer I stared at that long, erotic line of cleavage, I knew there was only one thing for me to do. I extended my right arm, removed the glass of wine from Rose's hand, and placed the fragile container on the counter beside her. Rose watched my every movement, and when she finally looked at me again, she saw that I was now standing very close to her. I raised my arms, grasped the black-framed eyeglasses covering her wide, brown eyes, and laid them beside the wine glass. "Ben?" she asked, or, rather, had only enough time to say before I wrapped her in my arms, pulled her to me, and pressed my lips forcefully against hers. Every sexual fire inside of me was raging by this point, and I knew that one of two things would happen within the next several seconds. Either Rose would push me away and run from my house, or she would return the kiss.

I knew her answer when I felt Rose's pointed and long tongue slip between my lips, and her arms tighten around my shoulders. I stepped forward as far as possible and pressed my body against Rose's, my hard cock leading the way. Our tongues wrestled angrily with each other while I unwrapped my arms from around Rose, and without losing the erotic pressure we'd created, slipped my hands between our bodies and placed them on each massive titty. Rose began to moan in the kiss now, the vibrations traveling through my mouth and tongue. I knew I needed to go slow, to bring Rose along at a slow speed, as I usually did with my ex-wife, but it suddenly occurred to me that the woman who once slept in this house had always criticized my love making talents. Perhaps a streak of anger crashed through me, perhaps not, but I realized that if Rose and I had come this far, then there was no stopping us now.

Stepping back, and with Rose's eyes locked onto mine, I slid my hands under the hem of Rose's blouse, and lifted the material up and over Rose's thick head of hair until she stood before me with nothing more than a thin bra covering her mammoth tits. I guess this would be a good time to explain that where I'd gauged Rose's tits to be in the 38dd range, I guess because I'd not seen another woman's tits in so long, I'd also lost my ability to accurately determine breast size. Now that they hung before me, now that each massive melon was within inches of my eager hands, I knew I'd badly missed on the size of Rose's tits. But while I was standing there gaping at Rose's titties, she wrapped her arms behind her, unclasped the bra, and allowed the satin garment to fall to the floor. "They're 44dd, Ben. I hope you like them. My husband obviously didn't." was all she said. Reluctantly tearing my eyes away from the gargantuan tits with nipples the size of half-dollars, I looked into Rose's eyes briefly before lunging at her tits, my mouth locked securely on the left nipple, licking the huge, fleshy button while my left hand mauled the right tit and nipple. "Oh, Ben, baby, what are you doing to me?" I heard Rose ask as she arched her back to shove more of the huge tit into my hungry, needy mouth. By now, I was lapping at her nipple, alternating the tongue washing with small, playful bites. Rose squealed lightly with each bite, encouraging me to continue the oral attention I applied to her massive chest.

I'd sucked on both of Rose's tits for several minutes when I realized she was moving her body more than she had before. Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I looked up to see Rose smiling down at me. She gently lifted my chin from her tit, bringing me to a standing position. "Let me get out of these clothes, baby," she said. I took a step back and watched in watched in awe as Rose hooked her thumbs in the waist of her skirt, wiggled her hips, and slid her body out of the skirt. I was even more surprised when I saw that the only thing covering Rose's cunt was a thin, almost transparent silk thong, slightly black in color. With my eyes now glued to her pussy, I saw thick tufts of brown cunt hair jutting out not only from the leg bands, but from the low laying waist band as well. It amazed me that Rose would have such a thick mat of cunt hair, one so thick that the thong barely covered the short, coarse hairs. Rose bent forward slightly at the waist as she removed the thong, finally kicking the silk underwear off her right foot, the article of sexy clothing rising above the floor to fall at my feet. I bent and retrieved the thong from the floor, an idea suddenly coming to life in my head. Standing erect again, I attempted to step toward Rose, but quickly discovered that she had other ideas.

"Oh, no, baby, it's my turn now," she said, stepping toward me and grasping the belt buckle that held my trousers to my body. While Rose opened the buckle with her left hand, she slid her right hand over the obvious bulge that announced the fact that my cock was hard and needed to be set free of the confines of my trousers. "Oh, my, what's this, Ben?" Rose asked as my trousers opened and Rose finally saw, for the first time, the hard cock she had created. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I felt Rose tugging downward on my trousers and in an instant, I stood naked in my kitchen while Rose stood before me dressed in nothing more than black, seamed stockings and four inch high heels. When she saw me smile at her, Rose said, "I take it you approve, baby?"

I responded to Rose's question by swiftly lifting her up into my arms, turning my body on my bare heels, and laying Rose on the kitchen table where the food she'd brought had been waiting for us since her arrival. With a wide sweep of my hands, the food, pans, plates, and any other dining implement fell to the floor in a clatter although, for some unknown reason, the wine bottle remained unsettled. I laid Rose onto her back, her long, stockinged legs stretching out on either side of me, and took a seat. My face was at the same level as her cunt, and the noise Rose made when my tongue made contact with her sopping wet pussy lips echoed from each wall in the kitchen before returning to my ears. "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!" Rose cooed as I began to lap at her cunt, inserting my tongue as deeply into her cunt as possible. Rose's hands found my head, her fingers now woven through my hair as I alternated between licking her cunt like an ice cream come or stimulating her clit with the tip of my hot, hot tongue. Rose's juices entered into my mouth, and coated my tongue before flowing down my throat. On and on and on, I sucked Rose's pussy lips, pulling them out and away from her body with my clasped lips before releasing the two fleshy folds, then attacking her cunt yet again. Each time I sucked one or both of Rose's cunt lips into my mouth, she squirmed wildly on the kitchen table, and although her black stocking legs lay draped over my shoulders, she was still able to lift and drop her ass upon the wooden table with enough force that I momentarily became concerned that we might actually break the table in the process of performing this special sexual act.

"Oh, god, Ben, oh, god, I'm so close to coming, baby," I heard Rose moan as I stimulated her protruding clit with my tongue. When I inserted first one, then two, and finally three fingers into her pussy while continuing to suck madly at the lips, Rose's reactions became more forceful and I knew she was close to coming on my face. I decided that I had at least another full minute before Rose would erupt in orgasm, but my estimate was incorrect. Just as I placed my tongue flat against her streamingly wet cunt, Rose lifted her ass high above the table, the movement causing the thing, stiletto heels to dig into my back. She powerfully squeezed her legs together and my head became trapped between her legs, a stocking top caressing each of my ears. Rose's hands now held my face tight against her cunt, and although my ears were somewhat covered by the two legs pushing on my head like a vise, I distinctly heard Rose's moans and screams as the orgasm overtook her and she let herself fall deeply into a state of pure sexual bliss. ‘DON'T STOP, BEN, PLEASE, DON'T STOP!" she begged as I continued to suck her cunt. Rose was lifting and dropping her ass so vigorously that I found it somewhat difficult to maintain the oral lock I had on her cunt. Rose had my head squeezed so tightly between her legs that I could actually feel the muscle spasms in her upper thighs as wave after wave of sexual seizures overcame her and she enjoyed the explosion going on in her pussy. ‘FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" Rose screamed, timing her moans with high ass lifts and drops, each word uttered as she raised her ass, then again as she slammed her the two meaty globes downward to cause a loud slapping sound as flesh met the wood of the kitchen table. Finally, Rose's ass lifts and drops began to decrease in speed and force until she finally lay limp upon the kitchen table, her chest heaving from the eruption, a thin layer of perspiration covering her entire body. I continued to lick and suck her cunt lightly, kissing the wide open pussy with my lips as her juices covered my face. When I lifted my head, my eyes traveled across her cunt-hair covered pussy mound, then across her mostly flat belly. The next body feature to come into view was Rose's impressive tits, heaving now from the exertion of having an orgasm, each nipple pointed at the ceiling. I could see Rose's chin, but not her face. When I finally stood, I couldn't help but notice that despite the beating Rose had given my kitchen table with the constant slamming of her bare ass upon the wooden surface, the bottle of red wine still sat upright beside her.

"Oh, baby," I heard Rose say, "Come here." Lifting my chin, I saw Rose now supporting her weight on her elbows, her massive tits and nipples covering her chest like a blanket. "It's my turn now, honey," Rose said, crooking her finger at me, signaling that she wanted me to come to her. I began to crawl upon the table between her wide-spread legs, but Rose stopped me. "Oh, no, baby, I want you to come to this end of the table," she said. "Come stand by my head." As I made my way to the other end of the table, Rose scooted her body backwards until her head hung over the edge of the table. Her long, now tussled brown hair stretched to the floor, and her massive tits rose like two mountains from her chest. I knew what Rose wanted me to do, and I was happy to oblige. As I stepped forward between her outstretched arms, Rose grasped my naked ass cheeks from behind and pulled my body closer to her head. She looked up at me, smiled, and placed my stiff cock in the palms of both hands. The head of my cock lay across Rose's mouth, and after pursing her lips a few times, Rose opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and using her hands, guided my cock into her mouth. Immediate, hot sexual flames spread through my cock as inch by inch slid between Rose's lips. By the time I'd slid the full length of my cock between Rose's lips, my ball sack rested against her forehead. "Ummm," I heard her say as she began to suck my cock from an upside down position. Hearing Rose moaning while she sucked my dick caused me to begin to feel the first stirrings of an orgasm although Rose had been sucking on my cock less than two minutes. From behind me, I felt her pull me tighter to her body, the warmth of her hands on my naked ass cheeks surprising me.

While Rose drew my cock in and out of her very wet mouth, I bent forward at the waist and placed both hands on her massive titty package as I had before, but now, I stood amazed at the hardness of her nipples. Even when each half-dollar sized button had been between my lips, they didn't seem as hard as they did now. It was as if my hands had found two small, very dense containers that even now responded to my touch. Leaning forward now and bending completely over Rose's half-nude body, sliding my very wet tongue down her body, between the two mammoth tits that caused my cock to stir, and past her navel until I finally arrived at her hairy cunt again. With no prompting from me, Rose slid her left leg several inches to the left but bent her right knee and placed her high-heeled foot on the wooden kitchen table. The odor of pussy wafted up to me, the smell of pure sex, the aroma of a cunt that needed probing and exploring. Because I'd already sucked Rose to orgasm once, I decided to take the liberty to be creative, to treat Rose to something I knew she'd never experienced before. For the first few moments, while she sucked on my cock and ball bag, I fingered Rose's cunt again, preparing it for the upcoming sexual event I had planned for her.

I have to give Rose credit for one thing: she could do something my ex-wife could or never would do. Rose could moan loudly even while her mouth was stuffed with hard cock. I knew her cries of sexual pleasure were from the deep finger fucking I was applying to her, but I had an idea that I was certain would cause Rose's moans to intensify in volume. Satisfied that Rose's cunt was ready for my next step, I extended my left hand to the left, grasped the wine bottle and gently poured the dark-colored fluid over Rose's clit. She jumped slightly, then began to roll her cunt back and forth as the wine flowed from the body, over her clit, and pooled between her ass cheeks. I didn't care about the mess I was making on the kitchen floor. No, my focus was on making Rose believe that I needed her as a woman, that she was, indeed, a unique woman, that she should never again doubt her abilities to satisfy a man.

Now that the bottle was empty, I turned it over, and placed the opening against Rose's cunt. I heard her moan behind me as she alternated now between drawing the length of my cock into her mouth, then releasing the shaft and pulling my scrotum between her lips. Recognizing the now growing vibrations in my loins and my cock, I knew I had only a few moments before my cock exploded in a surge of hot crème. Using Rose's natural lubrication, I slowly inserted the bottle neck into her cunt, pushing and pushing until seven full inches of dark, green glass rested between her pussy lips. Rose lifted both legs now, the movement allowing me to shove more of the bottle into her exceedingly wet cunt. She'd released by cock by now, but I didn't care. I was on a mission, and I wanted to bring Rose to another orgasm using this false cock, using this wine bottle.

"OH, FUCK, BEN!" Rose screamed now as I alternated between inserting and removing the wine bottle from her hungry pussy. She returned to lifting and dropping her naked ass in time to my hand actions and the bottle insertions. "BABY, YES, FUCK ME , FUCK ME, FUCK ME! OH, HELL, YES!" Faster now, faster still, and suddenly, without warning, Rose exploded again in orgasm, her body reacting violently to the wine bottle prick, her screams filling every corner of the room. I held the bottle firmly in Rose's cunt, making sure at least five inches of the green-colored glass remained buried deep inside her pussy. Just to add a new thrill, I began to rotate the bottle as it lay between her cunt lips, knowing this new movement would send shivers throughout her body. Behind me, Rose's orgasm was coming to an end, but sounds of joy continued to leave her mouth and reach my ears. Although she's slowed her ass gyrations, Rose continued to move her cunt in time with my much slower bottle insertions, Finally, I heard Rose say, "Let me up, baby. I have something for you." Moving backward, my cock dragging across her face, I finally stood in the mess of food and spilled wine, extended my hand, and brought Rose to her feet. Even as she stood, and although I'd already sucked each nipple, I was still amazed at the size of her tits. Each huge globe pressed against me as Rose kissed me, then led me by the hand to the opposite end of the table. She sat on a chair, her hair still tussled and mussed, but her hand wrapped firmly now around my hard cock. Rose gave my cock her undivided attention, licking the head again and running her tongue the entire length of the shaft before sitting back and telling me to step closer to her body.

In all the years I was married to my ex-wife, not once did I place my cock between her tits. That isn't to say that she had small tits, but my ex-wife's tits were nowhere near the size of Rose's huge titties. As soon as Rose laid the cock shaft between her 44dd tits, I knew that finally, I was going to take part in a titty fuck. Like an expert, Rose released my cock but quickly squeezed each huge melon together until I felt the pressure of each fleshy pillow holding my cock securely between her tits. Looking up at me now, Rose smiled and said, "Go ahead, Ben. I'm sure you know what to do."

For the next several moments, I conducted a series of up and down hip thrusts that caused my cock to slide between Rose's titties. I was amazed that a woman her age could create such a tight hold on my prick. The pressure on my cock was tighter than any young cunt I'd head when I was a teenager and just beginning to fuck. Rose had her chin dipped, looking at my cock as it slammed between her titties. I felt her release several large dollops of saliva which fell onto the head of my cock and helped to lubricate the valley between Rose's tits and my cock. I began to moan now, coming closer to orgasm, as every inch of my cock fucker Rose's tits as if it were her cunt.

Now, I was enjoying this titty fuck, but more than anything at that time, I wanted to fuck her. We'd come this far, I knew the next step had to be one where my cock slid between the same pussy lips I'd sucked and bottle-fucked. Rose seemed to be lost in the tit fuck, but she didn't complain when I stepped back and lifted her to her high-heeled feet. Without comment, as if she knew what I had planned, Rose sat on the kitchen table in the same spot where I'd eaten her cunt, her high heels flashing again, the black stockings leading my view to her cunt. Rose spread her legs and placed one high heeled foot on the arm rests of the kitchen chair. All she said to me was, "Come and take me, Ben." I stepped forward with both hands wrapped around my cock, and because Rose's cunt was so well lubricated from me sucking her pussy and the stimulation she felt, the full length of my cock entered Rose's cunt. She immediately lifted her feet, not to wrap and lock her legs around my waist, but, rather, to rest her stocking-covered ankles on my shoulders, one four inch, black stiletto heel resting on each side of my head. I grasped each ankle in my hands, and began to slam my cock deeply and repeatedly into Rose's hairy, wet cunt. Rose remained in an upright position, staring directly into my eyes, meeting each of my forward thrusts with thrusts of her own. Together, Rose and I began to moan, to fill the room with cries of passion as every inch of my hard, erect prick slammed forward, as Rose's cunt lips opened to receive my cock, as we worked together to reach orgasm. Each time I slammed my cock into Rose's cunt, the kitchen table moved backward several inches. Finally, I released her ankles and allowed Rose to recline onto her back. I wanted to get at those tits while I fucked her, and I knew that having her on her back was the best way to feel those mammoth titties pressed against my chest.

Now that Rose was on her back, her dark brown hair flowed across the table. But what held my attention was the two high mounds that protruded upward from her chest, Each nipple seemed harder, longer, more receptive to the grasp of my right hand as I mauled the melon while continuing to pummel Rose's cunt with my cock. Deeper, deeper, deeper, I pushed into Rose's pussy, feeling the silk stockings stimulating my naked sides, feeling her cunt lips swallowing my cock. Looking down at Rose, I saw she was staring at me, and it was then that she simply shook her head at me, giving me permission to explode inside her pussy.

When my cock erupted, the head of my prick was buried deeper into Rose's cunt than it had certainly ever been in my wife's cunt. I was pounding Rose's cock, and in the back of my mind, a thought occurred to me that if I fucked Rose too hard, I might actually break the kitchen table. But to be honest, I didn't give a shot about the table at that moment and so, as the first spurts of hot, white crème spewed from my cock, I increased the speed, volume, and power of each thrust. "OH, FUCK, ROSE, I'M COMING, BABY, YES, I'M COMING!" Wave after wave of orgasm flooded over me as I bent forward and pressed my chest upon Rose's tits, the nipples pushing against my skin. This movement caused my mouth to be closer to Rose and it was while we were engaged in a deep, erotic, tongue-lashing kiss that Rose's orgasm began as well. Rose wrapped my head in such a tight embrace that I thought I heard bone snapping in my neck. On and on and on, I slammed away at Rose's cunt until my cock finally began to grow limp, until Rose lowered her legs, and for several long, quiet moments, we lay wrapped in an erotic embrace upon the kitchen table, the spilled food, and the heat of the after fuck.

We rose from the table after several moments, and with my hand in hers, I led Rose to the bathroom. Slowly, I removed the stockings from her legs while the bath filled with warm water. We entered the tub and spent the next hour kissing deeply, fucking, and washing each other. When we'd completed the bath, I led Rose's naked body to my bedroom where we spent the night again having sex, but this time, going slowly, giving each other deep, loving kisses, holding each other, not wanting to let each other go. Rose called in sick the next morning and we spent the day alternating between being in bed and talking about how our lives had brought us to this day. I explained to Rose that I'd be happy if she moved in with me, if she'd give me the chance to show her that I saw her as the complete woman, as one I'd be happy to have a relationship with. She moved in at the end of the week.

Next month, we will have been married three years.