16 comments/ 41766 views/ 16 favorites Those Spanish Eyes By: MrPezman The droning, monotone voice of the teacher seemed more and more like a background noise, and I was severely bored. I had paid to take this class, and holy shit! It was beginning to drive me up the wall in boredom. I looked around at the other people in the classroom, seeing that they were as bored as I was. There was more than a few pretty cute girls, and one really beautiful one. Rosa, this amazing Spanish woman, sat only a few desks to my right, twiddling her flowing, almost black hair, brushing the end of a lock across her full, glossy lips as she stared off into space. She was no older than twenty, but definitely older than eighteen. I took off my hat, brushing my hair back with my hand. Sometimes it was necessary to wear a hat to tame my hair a little. Donning my hat again, my eyes drifted over to where Rosa sat in a pair of thigh-high, white shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank-top. She was still drawing a tress across her lips, but she was no longer staring off into space. Instead, she was staring at me, and at first, I thought she was looking right through me. Then she smiled as I looked back at her. I smiled slightly, seeing that she wore a slim ring on her ring-finger. Of course, she had to be married; only the hottest ones seemed to be taken. I tore my eyes off her big, brown doe-eyes with some difficulty, checking the clock on the wall of the classroom. 'Thank God,' I thought to myself. It was time for class to be over. I grabbed my book bag and stuffed my Sociology textbook into it, following it with my notebook. We all flowed out of the classroom, chased out by the professor's warning of a possible quiz in the next few days. I walked out to my car, a beat-up Corolla, tossed my bag in the bag and started it. I had left the volume up on my radio on the way to class, and after a few seconds, it was suddenly overwhelmingly loud. As I turned it down, a shadow fell across me, and I looked up. Rosa, her purse slung on her shoulder, looked uncomfortable just standing there, like she was embarrassed. "Hi," she began, hesitated for a minute, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. I nodded, "Hi Rosa, what's up?" "Um, I need to ask a favor." I shrugged, "Sure, what do you need?" "Well, my friend, Carly, was supposed to drive me home, but she has to stay for some thing. I was wondering if you could drive me home." I agreed, and cleaned off the passenger seat of random items, such as junk mail that usually stayed there after I checked the mail, a pack of gum, and a few c.d.'s. She set her purse down on the floorboard, and got in, giving me a split-second glance at her full, round butt. Her legs were naturally tanned, and appeared to be quite smooth. I rolled the windows down to let some fresh air into the car, knowing it smelled like fast food. I'm one of those people that let crap pile up in my car, and I know it, but I usually procrastinate when it comes to cleaning it out until absolutely necessary. I wished that time had come before class. "Which way do you live?" I asked, backing out of the parking spot. "Barrett Heights, the south end," she buckled her seat belt. "Really?" "Yeah, I live there with my roommate." I was taken aback, "Roommate? I figured you were married, or engaged or something like that." She rolled her eyes, "Well, I was engaged, but that didn't work out." My eyes left the road and I glanced over at her, "You're still wearing a ring." She lifted her left hand and twirled the ring around with her right, smiling dryly, "I keep it on to remind me that he left me, you know, just in case he comes crawling back. Apparently, he decided that after only a month of planning a wedding he wasn't really prepared for married life." I was incredulous, "Why would he propose if he didn't want to get married?" She laughed every bit as dryly as she had smiled a minute ago, "So he could get laid." I thought I might have a chance to be her rebound, but I found that I couldn't say anything that would help achieve that. Stupid conscience! Instead I noted aloud, "Seems like a stupid thing to do just for sex." She glanced over at me, her eyes narrowed slightly, apparently thinking that my criticism was aimed at her. "I mean for him," I clarified quickly. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it was. It was my fault as much as his, though. I should've made it clearer that I expected more from him than sex. I was just so happy that someone proposed to me, I let it go." Before our conversation could go any further, she changed the subject, "I live on the third street on the right, Cheshire Circle." I looked for the street sign, and when I found it, I turned onto the street. She pointed out the little house, a one-story pad, and when I pulled up into the driveway, she picked her purse up, began to get out, and then stopped, looking back at me for a second or two. "Listen," she seemed unsure, "Since you're here, do you want to come in? I can get you a soda or beer or whatever, if you want." It's not like I had other plans, so I just pretended to think about it. As if coming to her senses, she quickly added, "You know, nevermind. I'm sure you've got somewhere else you have to be." "Well," I grinned, "Nothing that can't wait awhile. If, that is, you haven't changed your mind, I could use a soda." She seemed tense as I followed her through the front door. The living room and kitchen were separated by a counter, both being pretty small. The furniture looked far from new, but was still in decent shape. She had me sit down on the sofa and she went into the kitchen, looking in the fridge for a second. The counter blocked my view of her as she bent down briefly to get a couple cans, but I imagined it was quite a view. When she stood up, she had two cans of Coke. "Are you sure you don't want a beer?" I shook my head, joking, "No thanks. Beer makes me think I'm somebody." She laughed and brought me the can. She opened hers and took a swig. Fascinated, I watched the muscles in her slender throat as she swallowed the soda. Then I hurriedly opened my can and drank from it. "Do you have any idea of what we were supposed to be learning in class today?" she asked, trying to relieve the awkwardness and tension. "Huh?" I found myself staring right into her eyes, and looked away, "Oh, not really. The professor droning on about whatever he was talking about almost put me to sleep. It's like having a noisy box fan in the background." She nodded, "I know what you mean. I only took the class because it's required. I just can't get interested in it." We talked of trivial things, mostly our majors and how many credits we still needed. However, instead of relieving the tension, it instead built up. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she continued to talk about other things. "So," she cleared her throat, "Do you live around here, or are you just here for college?" "I live about fifteen minutes north of here, in Hereford." Soon we were running out of things to talk about, and, finally, in an innocent tone, seemingly devoid of any agenda, she asked me, "Was your girlfriend expecting you home soon? If you need to go, it's cool." I laughed a little, "If I have a girlfriend back at my apartment, somebody needs to inform me about it. No, it's just me." She smiled, taking a sip of her drink, saying no more about it, but the tension eased slightly. I took my time with my drink, nervous, yet not really wanting to lose my excuse for being there. She set her can down and stood up, informing me that she'd be back in a second. Then she disappeared into a small half-bathroom near the kitchen. I stood up and looked around the living room. A decent-sized television perched atop a small swiveling stand. In the small glass cabinet within the stand, I could make out the titles of about eleven or twelve DVD's, various genres of movies. On the walls were some cheap prints of painters I'd never heard of. One print had a landscape of a planet that couldn't exist in reality, with three moons, some strange plant life, and a looming storm in the distance. The other prints were similar in topic. Either Rosa or her roommate was interested in science fiction. As I continued to look around, noticing small things, like a discarded pair of pants that had been left on the floor. 'Well,' I thought to myself, 'At least they're women's pants.' Inside the pair of pants peeked a bit of red, and I toed the waist of the pants, revealing a pair of panties that had apparently been stripped off with the pants. I wondered who these garments belonged to. The pervert in me suggested I pick up the panties and have a sniff, like a recently post-pubescent teenager. I flushed a little at the thought, and left them alone. I went back to looking at the DVD's in the stand when Rosa returned. "Some interesting movies in here," I didn't bother with trying to sit down before she emerged, instead reading some of the titles aloud. "About half of those are my roommate's," she explained. I was almost through with my drink, and had no other excuse for hanging out, so I asked her if she wanted to watch a movie, "We can rent a few, if you'd like. My treat?" She nodded as if she'd also been looking for an excuse to have me there, "That'd be nice, as long as I can pay for a pizza." Fifteen minutes later, inside the Video Store, standing side-by-side, Rosa and I scanned the movies, reading them aloud one at a time if they sounded interesting. She picked up a slice-and-dice thriller, read the summary on the back, and suggested that one, so I held it. The next one was a science fiction movie, and the third a comedy. "That should be plenty," she decided. I paid for the movies as I had said I would, and we stopped by a pizza place to get a pie. It took another twenty minutes, so we talked about more inconsequential things until it was ready. Once we arrived back at her place, I carried the pizza and movies in, following her and enjoying the view of her hips swaying hypnotically as she walked. I had to force my eyes away from her when she turned, "Just set the pizza on the coffee table while I get some plates and more soda." This time, as she bent to get two more cans from the fridge, the counter wasn't blocking my examination of her round ass. I had to turn away to hide the erection that had started to form, using the pretense of putting the pizza down where she'd said. She gathered two plates and carried them and the soda to the sofa. "Which movie first?" she opened the pizza box. I shrugged, "I guess we can watch the sci-fi first." I turned the TV on a put the disc into the small player underneath. As it began, she handed me a plate, and we helped ourselves to the pizza. She sat down next to me and took a bite of the slice on her plate. At this point, we were only about half a foot apart, but that felt way too far. I could simultaneously feel how close she was and the seemingly endless gulf between us. As far as I knew, this was just two people hanging out, nothing more. I couldn't even be sure that the little things I had thought I noticed earlier were signs of anything more. I never was good at picking up signals like that. We ate and watched the movie, which was probably entertaining. I couldn't concentrate on it. I found myself sneaking looks at her cute, slightly round face, those beautiful Spanish eyes, and her entrancing body. It was a good thing I was sitting down, since I could better hide my returning erection from her. She slipped off her sandals and tucked her feet under her, but seemed uncomfortable like that. She shifted repeatedly, unable to find a comfortable way to sit. Finally, I set my plate down, done with the pizza, and gently picked her feet up, setting them in my lap. "Oh, you don't have to have my dirty feet on you-" she seemed embarrassed, blushing. "It's quite all right." "But you were eating..." "I'm done. I'm serious, it's okay. Comfy?" She nodded, still slightly embarrassed, and left her feet on my lap. They were dainty little things with cute toes. She'd painted her toenails a brick red. I resisted the urge to touch her feet, but not very easily. I again tried to concentrate on the movie, and managed to succeed for a few minutes. My hands rested on her shins, just above her ankles, the heat of her skin quite noticeable to me. I wanted to stroke her smooth, firm legs, but refrained from doing so, not wanting to ruin it. I poured all my concentration on the movie, but only about ten minutes later, I could suddenly feel her eyes on me. I looked over, and sure enough, she was looking at me. Then my eyes drifted down to my lap, and saw why she was staring. Somehow without me realizing, my hand had begun moving in short strokes up her shin. I forced my renegade hand to stop, flushing brightly. "Sorry," I mumbled, unable to think of a single valid excuse for why I could be rubbing her shin. She smiled shyly, another signal there, but I couldn't trust my judgment as to what it meant. "I don't mind," she admitted quietly, surprising me. As if being given permission, my hand began moving, again seemingly of its own accord, and I could feel the goose bumps under my hand. I was immensely enjoying that little bit of contact, but then, unfortunately, the movie was over. I had no idea what happened, since my attention had been on her through the whole thing. She swung her feet down, but didn't get up. She looked at the coffee table, or rather, through it, mulling over something in her mind. "Do....um, I mean..." she threw her hands up in frustration, "Why can't I ever just say what I need to say?" I looked at her, curious, "When are we ever able to say what needs to be said?" Then she kissed me. It was light, unsure, but all the more electrifying. When she moved away a little, she seemed as surprised as I was. I asked, "Is that what you needed to say?" "I think so." "But is that all you needed to say?" "I don't think it was." With that, she again pressed her lips to mine, this time more forceful, and her soft lips opened slightly, silently inviting mine to do the same. Her tongue darted out teasingly, flicking snake-quick against my lower lip, and my tongue responded. My hands found their way to her silky hair, smoothing and caressing. Her hands rested on my shoulders. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, and her eyes searched mine for something. I could get lost in her wide brown eyes. Despite being 20, those eyes seemed to still be so innocent and naïve. "I don't know if this is what I want," she sighed. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to." "That's not it, though," she almost seemed to be talking to herself, arguing. I waited. "I really like you," she admitted, "And you've treated me so nicely." "You don't owe me anything for being nice to you, Rosa. I like you, too." "But what if I... and you start treating me like Alan did. I felt so used..." "It was so wrong, what he did to you." "I can't go through that again." She was so vulnerable that I almost backed off. I continued to stroke her hair with one hand and pulled her gently to me, "And you won't. Whatever happens, you won't." She kissed me so intensely, so fiercely that it made my head spin. I've been kissed before. But this was the most arousing kiss I'd ever had. Her hands slid around to my back, and pulled me almost desperately, almost as if she were drowning. I lifted her and held her in my lap as we continued to kiss. My hands caressed up and down her back for a few minutes, and then she abruptly stood up. She pulled me up as well before leading me to her bedroom. The only light in her bedroom came from what light snuck in around the dark curtains. My eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, and I could make out the bed, a simple frame, nothing fancy. She pulled me against her, and again we met in another mind-blowing kiss that left us both breathless. She broke briefly to lift my shirt over my head and off. Her lips returned to mine, and then traced soft brushes on my cheek, next to my ear, and then down to my neck. I could feel her body pressing insistently against mine. I pulled her tank-top off, baring her beautiful, slightly upturned breasts. My hands cupped them and slowly kneaded in circles, feeling her nipples harden, drawing soft moans that I could feel on my neck as she kissed there. When she stopped kissing, I moved my face down to her cleavage and planted soft kisses there, moving outward to pull her nipple into my mouth before moving my tongue to stimulate them further. Her hands held my head against her, and she moved her hips closer, almost grinding against mine with need. I slid my arms around her waist to feel her ass, gripping it as I picked her up, and her firm, toned legs wrapped around me. I carried her to her bed, my mouth still sucking and teasing her nipples. When I joined her on the bed, she was struggling with her shorts, so I tenderly pushed her slender fingers aside and unbuttoned her shorts for her. She lifted her hips up in the air to assist me in pulling them off, but I was just enjoying the feel of her legs. She was only 5'2, so her legs were a little short, but they were still so gorgeously smooth and silky that I ran my hands up one leg, to where the bottom of the shorts began, and then back down, to her cute feet before slowly working my way up her other. I was almost overwhelmed at how quickly she had totally succumbed to me, completely putting her heart, still raw from such deceit and betrayal from another, into my hands. I had to be careful to take it as slow as she could handle. She confessed, her voice shaking slightly with desire and a mild fear, "Your hands feel so good on my skin. I love how you touch me." Delighted to hear that I was having such an effect on her, I moved my head down and traced a path with my lips, the same path that I had just finished with my hands. As I reached her feet, she giggled nervously as my lips tickled her arch. From there, I kissed her other foot, and continued my way up to her thigh. "I don't know how much I can take, it just feels so good!" she gasped as my lips grazed her inner thigh. I finally moved and helped her peel her shorts off, revealing a pair of pink panties with a rose pattern, and I thought, 'How appropriate considering what lies beneath!' I kissed higher up on her thigh, just below the thin material of her panties, and then worked my way inward. Her legs opened a few inches, and I could just barely make out the outline of her moist opening. Careful not to touch her there just yet, I concentrated on the soft and sensitive part of her inner thighs, kissing lightly, and then moving my questing tongue along that area. She gasped as her nerve endings registered the teasing so close to her center. Her thighs there tasted slightly salty from the sweat that had dried there recently, probably from when she had been most nervous and apprehensive. It only took another minute before her hips gyrated, indicating her fierce need for me to pleasure her where it would cause the most sensation. I caringly kissed her through the fabric, directly on the center, and she jumped from the brief stimulation. "You're torturing me!" she exclaimed, hooking her thumbs under the waist of her panties and thrusting them down. I had to stare for a few seconds! Her pubic hair was shaved, except for a small triangle no wider than two of my fingers, and even that small triangle of hair was trimmed down almost to the skin. Honestly, when I ran my fingers over it, it had a texture that was remarkably similar to a piece of felt. I snapped out of it enough to help her shed her panties, which had become more than moist from her heat and need. Those Spanish Eyes Ch. 02 I consider myself to have a pretty open mind. When I was younger, I had gotten access to a few books by this female author named Nancy Friday. Both of the books I had read contained a plethora of women's fantasies, anything from rape, threesomes, orgies, teachers, preachers, animals, etc. A lot of them turned me on, and I had masturbated a lot as a teen while reading these fantasies. It was so strange having read them, and I never heard a girl utter any type of fantasy as bizarre as those in the books. And I knew a lot of girls, especially in high school. So, as I sat on a couch in a small house that Rosa shared with a roommate, listening intently as Rosa explained her fantasy to me, I wondered not if I could do something like that, but only how I could best fulfill this amazing girl's wishes. She was anxious, sitting there, a movie playing now unnoticed on her television, and I waited for her to tell me what it was that she desired. She took a breath to screw up the courage, and explained, "When I was a girl, I lived with my papa. My mama died having me. My older sister, Azalea, was moving out, and it became just me and my papa." She saw my look when she had said her sister's name, "I know, my papa gave me my name because of my sister's name. Roses and Azaleas were my mama's favorite flowers, so it seemed only right. "Anyway, my papa was lonely. He tried to find another woman to be with, but he loved my mama so much that no other woman could compare. So he stopped looking, and focused his attentions on me. He'd spend all his free time sitting with me, listening to my problems in school, or he'd have me cook food with him, and he just loved having me around. When Azalea moved out, I was twelve. I think I probably made things worse for him when I had my first period, and began developing. I'm sure I was a bitch as I tried to get used to all of that. "But I did get used to it, and became my papa's little angel again. Then I began to notice that as I developed and became a young lady, my father would be spending time with me, and then suddenly go to the bathroom and spend ten or fifteen minutes in there. I figured it was no big deal, but then he would seem to stare at me when he thought I wouldn't notice, you know, weird stares." Rosa stopped, and looked at me, so sure that I would think that she was a bad person. As for me, I thought I knew where this story was headed, but at that point, I had no idea what kind of fantasy would spring from it. "It's okay," I took her hand, intertwining her long, slender fingers in mine, taking note of her recently chewed fingernails, "You don't have to worry, I don't think there's a thing wrong with you." Her pained smile seemed to signify that she thought otherwise, "After weeks, months of these weird looks, and his frequent trips to the bathroom, he finally broke down and told me, such shame in his words. He confessed that as I...developed, he began noticing me as a young woman, as mama had been when they first met. He said he saw my mother in me, and his urges were unbearable, so whenever he got them, he had to hide in the bathroom and do stuff until the urges passed. He told me he was ashamed of himself for feeling such urges for his own daughter, but he was so damned lonely without mama. So..." I blinked several times. I had been imagining her as a young girl, hearing such talk from her father, and the feelings as he tells her this. It was definitely different, considering all the perverts out there that don't bother trying to explain themselves as they rape their own daughters and, sometimes, sons. It took a second to realize that she had stopped again, and there were tears in her eyes as she recalled her past. "It's okay," I assured her, "I think I can get the point. If you need to talk about it, you can, but it might not even be necessary." She shook her head, "I have to, because he never... he never went all the way. He did other things, but it's not like he was some animal. He was still my papa, and he was always kind and gentle. And after he was done, he would always hold me in his arms as he had when I was younger." "So you said he never went all the way," I backtracked, "Was he planning on it?" She shrugged, "Maybe, I don't know. He never told me. I think the things he did, or let me do, they all got to him. He...h-hung himself...In his bedroom, he t-t-tied a sheet to the rafter..." "You found him like that?" "No. I was at school. The police told me that he died peacefully in his sleep. It wasn't until everyone else found out the truth that I did. The kids at school all gossiped about it, told each other all the details, and I overheard it all, even though they'd stop talking when they saw me." I sighed, "Kids can be like that, I guess. Still, it's not as bad as seeing it firsthand. It's bad, but not that bad." She nodded, and the tears that had been standing in her eyes made small, wet tracks on her mocha-hued skin. She hugged herself, shivering as it all came back. "The thing is, my papa died before he ever... and I've never had anybody be so gentle with me, so kind, until with you. That's why I'm telling you all this, things I never told my closest friends. You were so gentle with me, just like my papa. So," she wiped the tears off her cheeks, "My fantasy is to let my papa have me...but since he's gone, I was hoping that you...could be him. Just for today. You could pretend to be him, to be my papa, and we could finish what he was so ashamed to finish himself." Yes, at that point, my mind was blown! I had no idea if I could do something like that. I mean, to pretend to be her father and do things that no father should ever do to his own flesh and blood, would that be right? But she waited for me to answer her, and the anxiety was intensifying in her eyes as she wondered whether, in spite of my assurances, if I would think something was terribly messed up about her. "Is this what you want from me?" I searched her eyes, almost hoping this was some test, "I mean, is this...a kind of closure you need?" She nodded slowly, now not even daring to look me in the eyes. She was already preparing for rejection, scorn, and worse, and it about broke my heart to see her so vulnerable. "Can I have a couple minutes to think about this?" I said carefully, not wanting it to sound as if I was getting ready to make a break for the door. She winced, but shrugged, "You don't have to, if you don't want. I know it sounds so wrong, and it maybe makes me twisted for wanting it to happen again, but it wasn't like he forced me to do anything, or to let him do anything. He was just so...depressed about mama, that I just wanted him to be happy, and I would do whatever it took to help him. Even if it meant losing my virginity to him, I would do it. But he died before that could happen, and I think it would've made him happy if he could just forget I was his daughter." I had never been asked a question like this before, but this was Rosa, a girl who had had such an effect on me that no other girl could have ever brought out in me. All I had to do was pretend that I was her father, and complete something that she'd been waiting for since she'd been a teenager. Of course, she was now grown-up, and not a young girl only recently coping with 'monthly visitors.' Actually, I came to realize that I was more shocked that she would ask such a thing from me than with the fact that I would have to pretend to be her father. "Are you sure that I'm the one to do this for you?" Shit, that sounded wrong! She winced again, "I...don't think I could ever tell anybody else, or ask anybody else to do this for me. Maybe it's a bad idea to ask something so big from you. I shouldn't put you in this situation." She started to get up, frustrated, totally exposed. I grabbed her wrist, "Hold on a second." She stopped and looked at me, completely humiliated, and I pulled her gently back down on the couch. "Sure, this is a strange situation for me, but if it's what you need, I don't think I could tell you no and be able to look at myself in the mirror. You've revealed such an emotional secret to me, of all people, and it seems so wrong for you to have done this for nothing." She put one hand to her cheek, shocked, and managed, "You'll...you'll do this for me?" I nodded, "I'm not sure what I need to do, exactly, so you'll have to help me, okay?" She about knocked me off the couch, she threw herself into my arms that forcefully. Her soft lips grazed my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine. That had to be one of the most arousing kisses I've ever felt; no other girl had ever even thought to kiss me there. It made my knees weak, and I'm glad I was already sitting down. When she looked up at me, those same, wonderfully bright Spanish eyes that had caught me from the first moment, they had changed. It was as if the years had rolled off them, and they were the eyes of a young girl. I was entranced. She spoke, and even her voice had changed, become a little more high-pitched, not the almost throaty-smoky voice she had used earlier, but a voice as young as her eyes. I was shocked...it seemed as if she had immediately thrown her mind back to when her father had still been alive. "Papa, do you love me?" It took me almost a minute to realize she was speaking to me, and not some disembodied spirit of her father floating behind me. I was her papa! I had to think about how her papa would've spoken, and since I'd obviously never met the man, let alone spoke with him, I had to improvise. "Yes, my little Rosa," I tried it out, "More than the whole world." "I love you too, Papa," she returned in her sweet, lilting voice. I pride myself on a very vivid imagination, and I really put it to work, creating a whole world in my head, starting with the room. I made it a nice, Mexican-style room, with pottery, arched doorways and windows, and azaleas growing outside the windows, because, after all, that was one of Rosa's late mother's favorite flowers. Further out were her mother's other favorite, roses, winding up a white trellis in the yard. Back to Rosa, I imagined her as I thought she might look. She had that same flowing, glossy-black hair, growing down to the small of her back. She had on a pretty-patterned sundress, red and lavender flowers, her face the same, just softer, a bit rounder, with wide, bright eyes, the shade of milk chocolate, such innocence and vulnerability in those eyes. She had just begun shaving her legs, because I (Papa) had recently gotten her a razor at her request. She had even put on her mama's perfume, and she smelled like roses as she looked right into mine (his) eyes. ---from here on, I will speak as her Papa--- "Have you done your homework, Rosa?" "Why yes, Papa, silly! You helped me with it, remember?" "Oh, how could such a think slip my mind?" Of course, I had indeed only helped her with her mathematics only thirty minutes ago! "So, then, my little flower, what would you like me to make for supper?" "I'm not hungry right now, Papa. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something important." "Important? Is something the matter?" "You've been so sad lately. I was hoping I could make you feel better, but it's just made things worse." "Oh, this is about...us. I'm so sorry, Rosa, but, well, I have been feeling such guilt about making you do what you have done. You are so young, and you are my own daughter. You should not know such grown-up things, and it is my fault that you know them" "Papa," Rosa cried, "I wanted to know them, and I wanted to do them for you. I want to make you happy again." I shook my head, "But Rosa, this is all wrong! Your Mama would not want me to do these things." "But Mama would want you to be happy, and you're not happy!" I looked away from her, wondering if this could even remotely be true. I had wanted children, and her Mama had done her best to honor my wishes, even giving her life to do so. And I wasn't happy at all. It seemed like no woman I had known could come close to the woman I married. Except, now, one had. The problem was that it was my own Rosa. She sat in my lap and shook my shoulders, "Papa! This is not wrong! If it makes you happy, then it makes me happy, and that can't be wrong. I want you to have me, like you had Mama." Shocked, I protested, "No, Rosa! You must not even think it! You are still pure, and that would take that pureness away from you. I am not the one who should do that. You must marry first." I tried to hide the fact that her request had aroused me so much, but what now began to poke her bottom was proof enough for her. "But I know you want to. Please, Papa, it is not wrong." With that, she pressed her lips to mine, and I knew I had to stop it before things went too far. But, my emotions, my desire for her overtook my resistance, and instead of stopping her, I kissed her back. Our tongues mingled, and I could taste the apple she had eaten while I had helped her with her homework. It was sweet on her breath. Her hand went down and massaged me through my trousers, as, I knew, it had done before. I had taught her so much that I could never take back. We kissed for a while, and her hand continued to stroke me until I was so aroused that it almost hurt. Then her bottom began wriggling, and she slid off of my lap. She knelt in front of the chair in which I sat, and unbuckled my trousers, pulling my erect penis from its prison. She exclaimed as she saw it, she thought it even larger than before. Her hands wrapped around it and began stroking it. I groaned softly as she maneuvered it into her mouth. Her pink tongue was hot as it licked and tasted, and then she worked it in as far as she could, which was about half-way. I had, under great lust, taught her how to please me in this manner, and after that, she used her forbidden knowledge and tried new things as well. Suddenly she let go of me, and pulled me out of my chair. My trousers fell to my ankles, and I stepped out of them to avoid tripping as she dragged me to my bedroom. Since her Mama died, Rosa had been the only one in my bed besides me. She slipped out of her sundress and panties, and I marveled at how much she had developed into a young woman. Her breasts had been growing since she was eleven, but had increased even faster once her periods began. Now, they were almost a handful each, with dark, coffee-colored areolas, tipped by small nipples. She was growing hair between her legs, but it was soft as down, as glossy black as her hair. Her legs had slimmed a little, only retaining baby fat in all the right places, giving her very nice curves. Her bottom had become slightly larger, rounding out as it hadn't been before. My resistance, as gossamer-thin as it already was, crumbled at the sight of her nudeness. I sat down on the bed and pulled her with me. I kissed the hollow of her throat as her arms went around me. She giggled as I kissed her throat, and my lips went to hers again. I kissed her for a moment, and began moving down, leaving more kisses burning on her smooth skin. I pressed my lips to her nipples, and flicked my tongue out to tease them until they jutted out, hard. She pulled my head against her chest, "Oh, Papa, I'm on fire! I need you!" I suckled on her nipples, making her moan, for another few moments, and then abandoned them to continue down to her stomach. I could feel the muscles tensing and relaxing just underneath the soft, silky skin as I kissed more and more. I began to smell her by now, that sweet, slightly musky scent that she emitted as I moved lower and lower. I pressed my lips against the hair growing above her vagina, swirling my tongue in it, grasping it between my lips and pulling gently. "Oh gosh, Papa, your lips feel so good on me, go lower, Papa, please!" As her legs opened, I watched her outer labia spread, revealing her vagina like a flower bloom, so pink and moist that I could not resist it. My tongue emerged and I dipped it onto her inner lips, dragging it upward, opening her lips wider as I did so, and then up to her clitoris, barely larger than a pebble. She tasted as wonderful as she smelled, more sweetness than salty, with a vaguely coppery flavor. She began to thrust her hips forward, her bottom barely touching the bed in her attempt to bare herself to me more fully. I plunged my tongue inside her, making her cry out and wrap her fingers in my hair. She pulled my head against her crotch, thrusting again wildly. I tasted as far inside her as I could, drawing my tongue out before slipping it back in again. I could feel her vaginal walls clenching against my tongue, and her sweetness flooded my mouth. She bucked as she climaxed on my face, moaning and thrashing, more of the sweetness on my tongue. When she relaxed again, I got atop her, my manhood jutting stiffly out, almost positioned already, resting against her thigh. I kissed her lustily, my tongue lapping at hers, and I knew she could taste her juices on my tongue, but she gave no sign of disgust or dislike of the taste. In fact, her tongue moved against mine as eagerly as mine did on hers. Her hands went down and grasped my manhood, guiding it at her entrance. Then she pulled on my hips, pulling me just inside her inner lips, and I could feel the tightness already. I stopped there, and some sense of morality arose, briefly. "I don't know if I can, my little Rosa, it will hurt you!" "You must, Papa! You can't stop now, I have to have it in me now!" She pulled fiercely, and the head pushed inside her, stretching her. At the same time, almost, I squeezed my eyes shut and thrust inside her more. She grit her teeth and cried out in pain as most of my erection pushed inside her, and her hymen tore. I could hear her keening as the rest of me ended up inside. Her thighs pressed against my hips, and her hands still pulled me, but she gasped all the same, the pain great. Fully enveloped inside her painfully constricted vagina, I waited. Gradually, she relaxed, still gasping, but the worst of the pain was past. Now there was a deep throb down there, and the stretching of her to get used to my girth and length. When the throbbing pain dulled, she moved her hips, and slid me out an inch, and then back in, gingerly as not to invite the pain back. Then she did it again, and again, slowly. I began to participate as well, and I slid out halfway with her help, easing back in. She relaxed further, and concentrated on the feel of me inside her, liquid warmth around me, tight, but now not too tight. The feeling became more enjoyable, and our movements synchronized, giving and taking. She began making small moans and gasps as I filled her up repeatedly, gyrating my hips slightly to help her enjoy it more. Slower at first, then quickening, and she breathlessly urged me to fill her up, to push it deeper, to go faster and harder, more and more, until her thighs clutched my hips, and she gasped. I could feel the already plentiful wetness increase, coating my erection, dripping onto my testicles. She spasmed against me, her vagina gripping me, pulsing, and it pushed me over the edge. I grunted loudly, and felt full of my seed, ready to burst. I tried to pull away so as not to spill it inside her, but her legs went around my thighs and her ankles locked. "Uh uh, Papa, you can't do that, it's okay, you can do it Papa, I want you to do it!" I couldn't hold back, and my seed, a lot of it, spurted hard from me, inside her, more and more. After one last spasm, I was done, but still she did not let go of me. "I love you so much, Papa, always. I can feel it inside me, so perfect in me. Just keep it there, please." But, having spent my seed, my manhood was losing its hardness, becoming smaller, until it slipped out of her anyway. She moaned with frustration, feeling suddenly hollow and empty, so I kissed her fiercely for a few seconds, and telling her how much I loved her, how happy she made me. She smiled brightly and nuzzled her head against my neck, her hair tickling my collarbone... Those Spanish Eyes Ch. 02 ---Now, back as myself--- I panted, trying to catch my breath. Rosa lay under me, her legs wrapped around me, her arms on my shoulders, equally breathless. When she finally could breathe normally, she looked up at me, and I saw that her eyes were as they had been when I first met her, in the now. She told me not to move yet, and her voice was back to normal as well, sultry and sexy, not the higher tone. It felt like every inch of my skin tingled from the intensity of our lovemaking. For another few minutes, she lay underneath me, her lips on my neck. After that, her legs relaxed and fell from around me, and her arms let go as well. I lay on my side, facing her. Her eyes were closed, but I could see that she was crying. Her lower lip trembled as her emotions overwhelmed her. When she had calmed down, her eyes opened, her lashes were wet with her tears. Nevertheless, she smiled, "I made Papa happy. If only for a while, I made him happy like he was with Mama." I murmured, "You did. You loved him so much that you gave him everything you are, and you made him a happy man. He loved you with every fiber of his being." With that, Rosa sobbed, "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me." "Yeah," I nodded, "I do now." Those Spanish Eyes After I had slipped the panties off her raised feet, her legs came back down onto the bed, and her outer lips closed, covering most of her entrance, except for where the clitoral hood peeked out somewhat. She was fully nude now, on her back, looking up at me with such a vulnerable gaze from those amazing eyes, the fear and yearning as nakedly displayed as she was. I wondered if the fear was evidence of doubts in her mind, doubts about whether continuing was a good idea. I couldn't in good conscience go on if these doubts were there. This thought, and the realization of how careful with her emotions I had become, baffled me, as any previous sexual encounters had not been so... tender. I admitted my reluctance, "It wouldn't be fair to you at all for you to feel that what we're doing is wrong. I need to know that you have no doubt in your mind." "Oh, please, I can't get rid of them," she pleaded, "I know I need you so badly right now, but I've been hurt so badly! What if you hurt me, too?" There seemed to be no way that I could utter any promise that I would not hurt her, especially when Alan had probably given her that same promise. It would just sound so hollow. Finally, since she was so anxious to hear something from me, a promise, a denial, something, I spoke as carefully as I could, hoping to prove to her my sincerity. "I would sooner die than hurt you." She was taken aback by my words, and tears stood shimmering in her eyes. I thought I'd said something horribly wrong. She suddenly pulled my face to hers. She whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "And that is good enough for me." So, seeing most, if not all of her fear depart from her eyes, I moved down on the bed, until I was level with her hips. She silently begged for me to please her, her hands were in my hair, and she pulled my face to the junction between her thighs. I breathed in the sweet, musky heat of her desires, and pressed my lips to her outer lips. Her legs spread in response, and with that motion, her inner lips were exposed, and her hooded clitoris along with it. Her fragrance became stronger, I noticed. I kissed along her inner lips, one and then the other, tasting the source of her aroma, a liquid that excreted the more excited she became. I moved up to the top of her inner lips to that little covered clitoris. At that point, it was the size of a tiny flower bud. I kissed the hood that protected it, sending shivers out from her core. With a finger, I stroked the hood back, baring that little bud of sensations to my lips. As my lips closed around it, she whimpered, "Oh, I'm already getting close!" I pinched it softly with my lips, and rubbed the tip of my tongue over it, and then again, slowly, side to side, causing it to swell just a bit. She gasped, her hips rising off the bed, her back arching, as the pressure at her center ebbed and surged, higher and higher, and then like a roaring wave breaking on the surf, the cataclysmic, mammoth pressure broke, and she was gripped in a deep climax. Wave after wave of near paralyzing pleasure rolled out from her center, enveloping her in a white glow of climax. Her legs tightened around my head as she rode the wave, and I could feel her clitoris pulse against my lips, growing a bit more swollen than before. When her legs relaxed and fell back to the bed, I let go of the bud and tasted the fluid that now coated her outer lips and on down until it wet the sheet underneath her. Liking the sweet-salty dewy flavor, I extended my tongue to catch the rest as it was released from her. Again and again, my tongue bathed, I swallowed it down greedily before seeking more, until her orgasm receded, and she panted, still whimpering on each exhale, trembling from the frantic energy she had expended. She touched my shoulder, and when I looked up to see her eyes, which shined wetly from my pleasuring. "Come to me," she pulled me up to eye-level, and without hesitation at the smell and tang of her fluids around and on my lips, she kissed me deeply, passionately, her tongue frenzied against my own. When her lips left mine, she whispered harshly in my ear, "I need you, now! Hurry, before it drives me mad!" With that, I moved atop her, yanking my pants and underwear down and off, and she brought her knees up, her legs parting wider in anticipation. As my erection pulsed almost painfully against her outer lips, she put her fingers around it and guided me in just past the inner lips. I eased myself in, shocked at how tight she felt as her vaginal walls gripped me. I gasped as the uncircumcised skin on my erection was pulled tight from the resistance. To help lubricate her and facilitate me into her, I reached down and lightly caressed the bud that my lips had so recently held. She moaned and arched her back. With her arching and the wetness that ensued, I was held tight within her, all the way in, and she hummed with pleasure. I waited as she relaxed enough for me to move, and then slowly slid a quarter of the way out before pushing back in just as slow. After another minute worth of slow and gentle strokes, the lubricating fluids inside her thwarted the tightness, and my strokes lengthened until the only part of my organ that was inside her was the head. My thrusts became more pronounced as I rocked back and forth, and her hips stayed with mine, matching me thrust for thrust, urging me deeper, her thighs pressed against my hips, her feet on the backs of my thighs. I took her sensitive nipples in my mouth one at a time, savoring their velvety texture and hardness, as her breasts bounced slightly in response to my thrusts. I pushed deeply, barely drawing out before shoving deeper. Her pants and gasps and moans were uttered during each thrust, a rhythmic slapping sound punctuating each utterance. I could feel my nuts swelling with my seed, and I resolved to slow down until I regained control over myself, but Rosa's urgent cries of pleasure signaled her own impending climax, and I dared not stop now. As her insides began milking at me, and her cries became almost high-pitched squeals of primal lust, I groaned at that split second between critical pressure and most pleasurable release, and again between each spurt of my seed as it unraveled like a thick thread within her. For each spurt, she released more of her juices, and more again, virtually gushing out. I stayed like this, holding myself up with my fatigued arms, still inside her until my erection faded and slipped grudgingly from her. Unable to hold myself up any longer, I relaxed one arm and fell most of the way on the bed. I lay against her, still trying to catch my breath, and she also struggled for breath. It was a long time before either of us spoke, since neither of us could formulate a sentence that would do anything but break the tremulous feeling that bound us even after I'd slipped from her. In fact, I'm fairly sure that we both dozed for a good half-hour. When I finally slipped into full consciousness, I opened my eyes to find her gazing at me. I lost myself once again in the depths of her eyes for a few minutes before she broke the silence. "I have to pee," she blushed. I smiled, amused by her announcement, and slid off of her side. With what seemed like considerable effort, she slid off the side of the bed and onto her feet, and disappeared into the bathroom next to the bedroom. I heard water running in the sink for a moment, and then silence. I waited for her to return, and the minutes felt like hours. After what was an eternity to me, I too left the bedroom. I stood outside the bathroom, staring at the closed door. I almost didn't hear the weeping, and I was a little worried that if I knocked I would find that her weeping was for her only. I waited longer, paralyzed with indecision, until I heard her softly sigh, "Are you out there?" I hesitated before answering softly, my cheek against the cool wood of the door, "I'm here. Is it okay for me to come in?" Only a beat of silence issued before I heard her speak gently, "Please?" I eased the door open to find Rosa perched on the toilet, her knees drawn up against her chest, fresh tears beginning to dry on her face. My breath caught for a second, and then I managed, "I hurt you." She laughed weakly, "No, I'm not hurt. It's strange. I came in here to clean myself up a little, and then I'm crying. But I'm not hurt... well, maybe a little sore. It's been a few months since, you know, and you were so big inside me. But that's not why I was crying. I've never felt so much...pleasure before. And then you're here and I feel it twice in such a short time. I think I got overwhelmed, that's all." She took a shuddery breath, and was silent, gazing at me as if unsure if I was even there, as if I were a dream. I waited for a minute or two, and then suggested a shower. She smiled beatifically at me, making my heart skip a beat. "A shower sounds wonderful," she stood up, swaying, and I put my arms around her to keep her from falling. Her legs seemed unsteady, as if they would spill her to the floor. I thought about the shower, and then rethought it. I thought a bath would work much better for her, so I turned the faucet on, adjusting the water temperature until it was just short of unbearably hot. I twisted the drain plug and it fell onto the drain, sealing it shut. As the tub filled with water, I looked around the bathroom until I found a little basket with what I thought might help. I dropped two bath-oil balls into the running water, and helped her in. She hissed, wincing when her feet touched the hot water, and she had to slowly ease herself into the water. Once she was immersed to her breasts, she relaxed. As she soaked in the water, sighing with relief, I plucked a washcloth from the towel bar, dipped it in the water, and softly scrubbed her back for her. She yielded to my gentle washing, sitting hunched over her knees to better bare her back for me. I rinsed her back off, then her arms, which she held out for me when I reached for them. She leaned back, stretching prettily when I used to washcloth to wash her breasts, which were all the more attractive when they were wet, the nipples poking out proudly. I washed her breasts slowly, one, then the other, before washing her stomach. From her stomach, I lavished attention on her legs, even taking the time to bathe her feet, which she absolutely loved. I continued back up her legs, stopping before reaching her center. She looked at me, waiting, saying nothing. She draped one leg over the edge of the tub, and propped the other up on the corner. I slid the washcloth up her thigh, reached her sore sex, and began scrubbing lightly, taking care not to apply too much pressure. She leaned back and willingly acquiesced to my ministrations. Her eyes closed, and she didn't move for a time, thoroughly comforted by my gentle scrubbing and the lilac-scented, hot water that enveloped her up to her neck. I dipped the washcloth under the water, wringed it out a bit, and folded it in half. I placed it on her forehead, and, with her eyes still closed, she smiled sleepily. While she drowsed, I stroked her hair. For a time, we stayed like that. I continued to stroke her wet hair, thinking almost amusedly about my sudden change that seemed solely fueled by my overwhelming desire for her to not be hurt anymore. The sunlight that filtered through the window in the living room was steadily turning a red-orange as it moved across the floor. I could see it through the open bathroom door. Gradually, as the light became crimson and slipped up the wall, the water grew colder, and Rosa eventually opened her eyes and removed the washcloth from her head. Looking up at me, she smiled, "Now that I feel better, how about that shower?" I half expected that our shower would be erotic, but that wasn't necessarily true. Yes, we kissed for a while under the hot spray, but it was slow, more sensual than passionate, taking and receiving comfort. We stayed in the shower for a while, washing, being washed, holding each other, being held. When we emerged from the shower, we quickly dried off and retreated to the bedroom to dress. As she pulled a fresh shirt on, I pulled my pants and underwear on. She looked so serene as she languidly slid a new pair of shorts up her legs, and then buttoned them. Dressed, we cuddled on the couch as the second of the three movies played. I leaned back on the couch, with my legs splayed, and Rosa leaned back into me, her head on my chest, her hand stroking my face. I couldn't concentrate on this movie either, though this time for different reasons. I only noticed that she hadn't really been watching when she looked up at me, a new nervousness in her eyes. I returned her gaze, waiting, and she wondered aloud, "I know that what we experienced was something awesome. But, if I tell you my fantasy, I don't know what you will think of me." I assured her, "You can tell me if you want. I've got a pretty open mind to most things, unless it's anything involving me and another man." She shook her head, "No, I don't want to share you with anyone else. It's just you and me. Besides that, it's pretty complicated. I'm not even sure I can explain it." "Just explain it as best as you can." As she began sharing her fantasy with me, my eyes grew wider and wider. What she explained blew my mind. I had only heard about it from stories about other people, but never firsthand... To find out what Rosa's fantasy was, please write your comments down, and anything I can do to improve upon the story...