The first time I met Rose was in the produce section of our local Gelson's store. She was buying a couple of honeydew melons. Which is ironic, really. Because I'd love to be able to say that what first struck me about Rose was her lustrous straight auburn hair, cut in a stylish page-boy down to her shoulders. Or her emerald eyes, which sparkled with mischief. Or the freckles which covered her face. But actually what first struck me were her simply huge breasts. She was wearing a silk shirt, unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage. I mean, I have always been proud of my own C cup boobs, but they were like bumps compared to Rose's. So as she delicately fingered the ends of the store's melons to see if they were ripe, I couldn't help imagining my own fingers delicately probing her lovely breasts, feeling her nipples slowly stiffen at my touch.
Because yes, I do like to watch, but I also love to play. And I swing both ways, with girls as well as boys.
We fell into conversation. Words always came easily to Rose; I believe I pretended to need her guidance on how to pick out a ripe honeydew, which gave me the time to look over the rest of her physique and her wardrobe while she told me. She had slim hips, clad in high-waisted satin harem pants. And she was wearing some kind of platform sandals, to give her a little more height, because her huge boobs somehow made her appear shorter than she actually was, I guess.
I thought she was lovely, and we chatted for quite a while before exchanging phone numbers and promising to get in touch.
I let two long days elapse before I called her. I was renting a spacious villa in Santa Monica at the time, with a pool and hot-tub, and I invited Rose over for a swim and drinks by the pool. Even by Californian standards the Summer was hot, and I was wearing a micro bikini when I opened my big oaken front-door to her the following weekend. Rose said she wouldn't swim, but would love a drink. There was a three-person canopied sun-bed on the terrace by the pool, heaped with cushions, and that's where we sat, sipping the ice-cold champagne that I had brought out from the house.
As we watched the sun slipping into the ocean like an angry blood-orange, Rose told me a little about herself. She lived with her younger brothers, who were twins, and had just turned 19. She did some modeling, and had - briefly - turned some tricks for the camera in a couple of porn films. She had nothing against that line of work - she readily confessed to being something of an exhibitionist - but had left the industry because of the way women were treated. There was no respect, she said. Male members of the production crew would routinely refer to the female actors as sluts or whores.
I think it was then that I told her that I liked to watch people fuck. I mean, watching porn is OK, but most professional porn leaves me a little cold. All that overdone panting and moaning, and contrived dirty talk ... I like to see a woman really lose control as her pussy is relentlessly pounded or her clit expertly tongued. Real people, real orgasms, real breathlessness ...
"So you're a voyeur" Rose breathed.
Our conversation served only to heighten my desire for her. Every voyeur needs their exhibitionist, and Rose seemed simply delicious.
After I saw her to the door that first evening, I went back to sit out on the terrace by the pool, and gazed up at the moon. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was our talk about porn, but as I lay there reveling in the deepening cool of the night, I started to daydream. I imagined Rose's enormous breasts tumbling out of her silk blouse and into my hungry mouth. I could feel my lips closing around her swelling nipples and my tongue swirling about each erect little nub. First one, then the other, my head bobbing from side to side. My fingers started to explore the dampening cleft between my thighs. At first through my bikini, my fingers started rubbing my swelling clit. And then I could stand it no longer and I was pushing my hand under the elastic of my bikini and brushing against my electric pubic hair with my fingers. Soon I wriggled out of my bikini altogether and lay back on the sun-bed, my legs spread open to the sky. It felt good, wanton somehow, to be exposing my soaking wet pussy to the balmy warm night. I worked two fingers up into myself just to get them wet, and then circled them softly over my pearl-hard clit, imagining Rose's huge breasts swinging above me, seeing her mischievous eyes sparkle as she watched me masturbate. I came with a muffled moan.
I was now more determined than ever to get Rose into bed, or at least take her up on that vague - barely hinted at - offer of some kind of a show ...
A full week was to pass before we were able to get together again. I phoned mid-week, but a gruff male voice told me that she was out of town. I assumed it was one of her brothers. I HOPED it was one of her brothers. When I finally did get hold of her it was the weekend, and she told me that she had been in New Mexico for a modeling assignment.
"Well - can you come round this evening?" I asked, hardly daring to hope that she would be free. But to my delight she said she'd love to, and this time SHE would bring the champagne.
When I opened the door for her, I was wearing a little black dress, a single gold pendant nestled between my boobs. Rose was wearing a deep green silk shirt, which matched her eyes, and pants of a lighter green, cut the way all her pants seemed to be cut, loose, and falling straight to the floor from her slender hips.
As I opened the fizz she had brought, Rose told me all about the shoot she had been on in New Mexico. Apparently one of the photographer's assistants - male - had tried to come on to her, and had got drunk in the hotel bar and made a bit of a scene when she pushed him away. Rose was good with words and always made me laugh with her colorful stories. I was an attentive listener.
The villa I was renting had a video projection room and there was a movie I had always wanted to see available on Netflix. I asked Rose if she was up for a French film.
"As long as it has subtitles, sweetie" she said.
So I scrolled through my favorites until its title appeared: 'Blue is the warmest color'.
We snuggled down onto the leather love-seat and began to watch. The movie follows the relationship between two girls, from its shy blossoming to its stormy end - with some pretty explicit scenes of lesbian sex in between. As the film unfolded, I found myself looking at Rose almost as much as at the screen, watching her parted lips and uneven breathing during the sex scenes, feeling her heart racing in time with the action. She was engrossed, and we hardly spoke.
At the end she turned to me and said:
"You really DO like to watch, don't you?"
I smiled, and asked her if she'd like to look at some more. I had carefully selected some porn clips that I had hoped we would watch together - clips featuring real people enjoying each other's bodies, enjoying bringing each other to shared climaxes.
To my delight, Rose silently nodded and gave me a broad grin.
The first clip I played featured a middle-aged couple fooling around together on a sofa. It was all shot from a static camera, so it was like we were actually there: voyeurs, silent witnesses to their lovemaking. The woman was making all the first moves, which I found really turned me on. The couple were clothed to begin with, and as they kissed, their tongues visibly entwined, the woman reached down and fondled the man's bulging pants. He pulled off her T-shirt, and started to kiss her nipples as she unzipped his fly and prised out his swollen cock.
They were soon both completely naked, and fondling each other, face on to the camera. His hand was massaging her glistening open cunt, as her hand was gliding up and down his glistening hard shaft.
"Which turns you on more?" asked Rose, not taking her eyes off the screen, "her breasts or her pussy?"
"I'd have to say, her breasts" I replied. "I mean I like the taste of pussy, but I LOVE the way a nipple stiffens in my mouth when I suck it."
"So which turns you on more to watch, breasts or cock? "
"Now THAT is a much more difficult question" I said, and watched his hands squeezing her breasts on the screen. And then turned my attention toward her fingers swirling sensuously over the angry swollen head of his rock hard cock.
"You know, I believe I am actually more aroused by his cock" I replied, and I think my answer was a surprise even to me.
Rose smiled.
