A Rose By Any Other Name

Ass

“So the area is three-fifths, then?”

That’s what Emily said, but I didn’t hear her say it.

“Is that right?”

I looked away from the black bra strap on her shoulder and nodded. “Perfect. I think you’ve got it.”

Emily smiled, a lock of black hair falling over her right eye, and circled her answer. “Yeah,” she said, “I think everything’s becoming much clearer.” And then, maybe, just maybe, she winked at me.

She looked back down at her calculus book and began copying the next problem into her notebook in her tight, precise handwriting. With her eyes looking down, I was free to steal another glance at her bare shoulder, the oversized green sweater slipping off to the left, and the satin black bra strap that led down toward the slight hint of cleavage between her breasts, like a path into a dark forest.

I glanced at her notebook and saw the first couple steps she had written down. “Good, you’re on the right track,” I said, and she nodded and paused, placing one end of her pencil between her lips. I didn’t say anything, and a moment later she put the pencil back to the paper and kept working.

This was Emily’s first year of college, and she found one of the flyers I posted on bulletin boards around campus. She called me about four months ago and we had been working together since then — her math was improving steadily, and with a couple of months left in the semester, she had a definite chance to get an A in calculus.

As someone who tutors a fair number of college students, it’s frequently difficult to not get attracted to the females, and Emily was no exception. In fact, there was no way I couldn’t be attracted to Emily, and, after our first few appointments, I had given up trying and just started stealing glances whenever she was looking elsewhere.

Emily wasn’t what you would call gorgeous in the traditional sense — undeniably, the best word to describe her was sexy. She had this perfectly tight body — narrow legs, hips that curved gently wider, perfectly-natural breasts that seemed to have that subtle rise that only natural tits have, stunning red lips, creamy skin, and black hair that dropped to midway down her back. It was the black hair that is perfectly straight and somehow always grabs the light in just the right way. It was the black hair that only Asian girls seem to be lucky enough to have, and she had it in spades.

I looked at the last step in her notebook, and Emily circled her answer before I could even tell her it was correct. “Good. And confident,” I told her, “and we’re out of time.”

Emily smiled at me again and brushed the lock of hair out of her eyes with her small hands, revealing her deep blue eyes. “Thanks, Curt. This really makes a lot more sense now.”

“No problem,” I said, standing up and holding my pad of scratch paper in front of my crotch to hide the beginning of an erection. “I’m glad.”

Emily stood up. “I’ll get my mom to pay you,” she said, and she walked out of the room, my eyes following closely. She was wearing incredibly tight jeans, the kind of jeans that leave you wondering how girls even fit into them. The jeans seemed to lift her ass up, molding it into these two perfect globes, and I thought I saw, riding along her right hip, a sliver of her black panties, a little g-string strap. Maybe. And as she rounded the corner, a little red embroidered rose peeked out from the top of the g-string, right above her gorgeous ass.

A moment later, there was Emily’s mom. Looking at Emily’s mom, you could tell where Emily got it from. Her mom was taller, her hair cut shorter and her breasts fuller, but she had the same amazing skin, the same sexy hips, and the same fashion sense as her daughter. She came into the room in a miniskirt and a spaghetti-strap top that showed that same gentle rise of her tits, just enough that it got your imagination working without giving anything away. Her mom seemed to always be wearing high-heels and today was no exception, her feet hugged by red leather shoes that came to a point at the tip and had inch-and-a-half heels. I smiled.

“Curt, thanks so much. Emily says it makes sense now.” I nodded. “So we’ll see you next week,” she said, “same time, same place,” and she pressed a few folded twenties into my hand.

“Sure thing, Miss May,” I said, “and thanks.”

“No problem,” she said. “And call me Tanya.”

And then, maybe, just maybe, she winked at me. Like mother, like daughter.

* * * * *

So I suppose at this point you think you know where this is going. I thought I knew where it was going, too — that I would show up some day at their house, and one of the two, Emily or Tanya, would be gone, and then I’d fuck whoever was home, and it would be amazing.

But that didn’t happen. I showed up each week, sometimes twice a week, for the last two months of the semester. Both Emily and her mom continued to dress the same way — I’d seen Emily around campus, and she didn’t dress that way just for me. Emily continued to improve, and they both continued to be escort bayanlar just a little flirtatious. Their flirtations were always subtle enough that I couldn’t be sure they were even being flirtatious. Maybe just coy.

The semester ended and Emily finished her calculus class, the only collegiate math class she had to take. After our last session, the evening before her final, she said she’d email me to let me know how it went. Her mom thanked me and pressed a doubly-large amount of twenties into my hand.

“Curt, again, thank you. Emily and I were both so lucky that she found your ad on campus.”

“No problem, Tanya,” I said, and I left their house, got into my car, and drove away, arriving home just as my erection had finally dissipated. And so I figured that was the end of that.

“Curt,” the email read, “I got a 92% on my final and got an A in the class. Thank you SO much, and watch your mail for a present. xoxo, Emily.”

I got that email about a week and a half after our last session. I was glad to know that Emily had gotten an A, and tried not to read too much into the x’s and o’s at the end, but, watching TV an hour later, even just thinking that they could mean something started to get my dick hard, and fifteen minutes later I was in the shower, cleaning up after shooting a massive load, one that I imagined spreading across Emily’s perfect tits.

A few days later, I got an envelope in the mail from the May family. I opened it and found a check for $200, and in the note section of the check, Tanya had written, “Thanks so much, xoxo.”

So I guess that’s just how they signed everything in the May family: xoxo. Tanya probably wrote it on the tuition checks she wrote to the college, and Emily probably wrote it at the end of her term papers. Oh well. It was still $200, and I cashed it right away and figured that was the end of that.

But it wasn’t. Two days after getting the check from Tanya, a small box just a few inches on a side arrived in my mailbox with no return address. Even so, from the small, careful handwriting, I could tell it had been addressed by Emily. Her writing was similar to her mom’s, but I had spent enough time checking Emily’s homework that I knew it was hers. I took the package inside, put the rest of the mail on the kitchen table, and unwrapped the plain brown wrapping.

Inside was a slightly smaller silver box with a silver bow. Slid underneath the bow was a tiny envelope which contained an even smaller card. For a second, as I pulled the card out, I imagined that there would just be a series of tiny boxes inside the silver box, each one smaller than the rest, until they were so small I wouldn’t be able to open them.

The card smelled like Emily — it’s funny, because I never really noticed that she had a distinctive smell, but as soon as I pulled the card out, I was instantly reminded that that’s what Emily smelled like.

“Curt — enjoy! I know you will. xoxo, Emily.”

There was that xoxo again. I put the card down and picked up the box and shook it. I couldn’t hear anything, and the box didn’t weigh very much at all. It almost seemed as if it was empty. I know from being notoriously difficult to shop for that when boxes seem to be empty, they almost inevitably contain cash.

I pulled the box top off the tiny box and set it down on the table. Whatever was in the box was covered in tissue paper — again, all signs pointing to cash. I peeled back the first layer of tissue paper and thought I could see something black underneath. I peeled back the next layer, and Emily’s gift to me was evident.

She sent me a pair of what could only be her panties.

I set the box down and lifted up the panties by the straps on the sides. It was a satin black g-string. I held the g-string up in the air and turned it around. There, at the top of the back of the g-string, was a little embroidered red rose.

While I couldn’t believe I was doing it — although I also couldn’t believe Emily had sent me a pair of her panties — I held them close to my face. I could smell Emily, the same scent that I got when I opened the tiny envelope, but I could also smell what I knew could only be one thing: pussy.

Emily had sent me a pair of her used panties.

At the sight of the panties, my cock had started to rumble, and the smell of Emily’s musk had made my cock strain as hard as it could against my jeans. I sniffed the panties again, right where Emily’s pussy would have been when she was wearing them, and my cock seemed ready to burst. I rubbed the smooth material against my nose and lips and reached down with my other hand to undo my belt.

A few moments later, I was laying on the couch, naked, with Emily’s g-string wrapped around my throbbing dick, my hand pumping the soft material up and down, the head of my cock purple and ready to explode.

I imagined Emily coming up with the idea to send me her panties. Maybe she was giving me a sneak peek that day I thought she winked at me; maybe she showed me tuzla anal escort her bra strap and the strap of her panties on purpose. I could feel a slow rising at the base of my shaft.

I imagined Emily picking out the panties to send to me, wearing them to class that day, the material fitting snugly between her perfect ass cheeks, the widest part cupping her pussy lips perfectly. I could tell I was getting close to coming and slowed down my stroking just a bit.

I imagined Emily coming home from class, her house empty, and lying down on the couch, just wearing the same black g-string that I had wrapped around my dick right now, and starting to masturbate. I imagined her fingers sliding between her smooth skin and the silky fabric, running through just the slightest trace of perfectly manicured hair, and parting her pussy lips with her fingertips. I couldn’t help but speed up my stroking as I imagined this. The straps of the g-string were rubbing gently against my balls while the widest part of the g-string was wrapped firmly just under the head of my cock, which was shiny with pre-come, some of which had dripped onto the fabric.

I imagined Emily slipping a finger inside her pussy. I imagined her pussy tightening around it, and then Emily putting another finger in her pussy. I imagined her thumb rubbing against her clit, her pussy lips puffing out against the black fabric of the g-string. I could almost hear her moaning as she massaged her clit and slid two fingers deep into her pussy. I could feel my balls clench as I imagined her fucking herself, thinking about me, saying my name, yelling it into the empty rooms of her house, and then she and I both came at the same time all over her slick, satiny black panties, each of us thinking of the other.

* * * * *

The whole summer had passed, and my tutoring business had slowed down, as it always does during the summer months. I spent most of that summer doing some screenwriting, thinking about Emily, and jerking off with her panties wrapped around my cock.

Then, the school year started, and I had less time to lie around and imagine licking Emily’s perfect, pink little pussy; her lips wrapped around my dick; shooting my load deep into her cunt or spraying it across her sexy tits, each the perfect size to fit in my hand.

Instead, I had to work more, and later into the evenings, and Emily’s g-string remained buried in my sock drawer for days on end. I had come on it (and then washed it) so many times, it didn’t even smell like Emily anymore. The rose had started to fade to a dull, washed-out pink.

As usual, in the fall, I picked up some brand-new students and also kept tutoring some students I had worked with the previous school year. About three weeks into the new semester, I traded emails with Amy, a student who lived in an apartment near campus and needed some help with statistics. We emailed back and forth a couple of times about rates and what time we could meet, and finally agreed on a cost and time.

I showed up outside Amy’s apartment at the time we agreed upon, a Tuesday evening, wearing what I usually wore to tutoring sessions — jeans, a t-shirt, and a button-down, collared shirt. I wanted to look somewhat professional (hence the button-down shirt) and not too formal (hence the jeans).

I walked up the narrow metal steps to the second floor, down the hall, and knocked on the door to

12. A female voice called out, “Just a second!” I stepped back and leaned against the hallway wall opposite the door. A few moments later, a tall redhead answered the door, wearing jeans, a t-shirt that hugged her ample chest, a thin jacket, and black leather boots that went over her jeans and ended just above the gorgeous curve of her calf. She smiled at me and asked if I was Curt.

“That’s me. Are you Amy?”

“No, I’m Jen. I’m just on my way out, but Amy said to just let you in — she’ll be out in a second.” Jen put a slight emphasis on the name Amy, something strange that I couldn’t put my finger on. “Go ahead — have a seat on the couch. I have go to, though,” she said and looked at her watch to further illustrate that she was late to get somewhere. Before I could ask her anything else, she winked at me, said, “Have fun, tiger,” and darted down the hall; I could hear her boots echoing against the metal stairs. The door to

12 was open and I could hear the faint sound of a radio playing from somewhere inside the apartment.

I walked in and closed the door behind me. The radio was playing the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” and someone was humming along to the melody. “Amy?” I called out.

Taking a few tentative steps down the hall, I saw the living room — there was a small flatscreen TV, a brown leather couch and next to it, a brown armchair, and a coffee table with some textbooks on it. I glanced through the textbooks — no statistics book in the pile. I looked around: there was a long hallway off to the right, which is where the radio (and the humming) was coming escort tuzla bayan from. There was a closed door at the end of the hallway, and as I stood there in the middle of the room, the music stopped abruptly and the door slowly opened.

“Hello?” I said tentatively, the shadow of someone falling across the floor of the hallway and stretching onto the wall.

I don’t know if I was truly surprised or not when Emily, the same Emily, stepped around the corner, dressed in a black miniskirt with a slit up the side and a loose black t-shirt that exposed her right shoulder and the black bra strap stretched over it. Emily smiled at me as I stood there, unable to speak.

“Curt. I’m glad you came. Do you like my new place?” She left a gap of silence for me to answer, and when I didn’t, she continued, taking slow steps towards me. “I didn’t know if you’d come over if I told you it was me, so I made up Amy and her tough statistics class just so you’d show up, and then I made sure to have Jen leave when you got here so I could surprise you. Are you surprised?” Emily put her soft hand against my cheek and trailed her fingertip along my jawline.

“Mmhmm, um, yeah. Surprised. Yeah, you could say that.”

Emily smiled. “Yeah, I thought you would be.” She leaned in and I was reminded of how she smelled, and then I was reminded of how her pussy smelled, and then all the fantasies I had jerked off to that involved her came back in a flood — sucking on her clit, her nipples, feeling my cockhead against the back of her mouth, fucking her — and I was suddenly hard as a rock, and Emily was pressing her body against mine and leaning close. I could feel her breath against the lobe of my ear.

“I thought you might not come because I thought you might be nervous after getting my present. You did get my present, right?”

I nodded and then, like teetering on the edge of a cliff and then finally going over, I knew I had to have Emily right then. I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned in and kissed her. Our tongues collided gently, like two snakes exploring, and she sucked on the tip of my tongue, tugging it playfully. While our tongues intertwined, she deftly unbuckled my belt and slid my jeans down, exposing my white boxers and the curved outline of my cock. She took her fingertip and ran it along the underside of my shaft and then broke off our kiss.

“Did you like my present?” she asked, her hand slipping inside the waistband of my boxers and pushing them down, exposing my hard cock. She wrapped two fingers in a circle just underneath the head of it and tugged gently, and I slid my hands to her hips and began to slide her shirt up. Teasingly, she stepped back just as my hands got to the bottom of her bra and got the slightest squeeze of her tits.

“Did you jerk off to them?” she asked as she knelt on the ground. I looked down at her, still dumbfounded. “Did you?” she asked again, her mouth so close to the head of my cock that I could feel her breath cool against the pre-come that had already collected at the tip.

“Fuck, yes. I couldn’t believe it when I opened them.”

She looked up at me and smiled. “I knew you’d like them,” she said, and then promptly slid her lips all the way down to the base of my cock, so far I could feel the head of it against the back of her mouth. I gasped at the sudden sensation and she slowly slid her mouth back, her lips and tongue running against the thick veins on my cock. She tightened her lips just under my cockhead and then popped my cock out of her mouth.

“Did you come on them?” she asked before swallowing my cock again. I could barely breathe, let alone answer, and she slid my cock out of her mouth again, just like before. “Did you?” And again, back onto my cock, which was now slippery with her saliva.

I leaned back against the wall. “Yes. God, of course, I came on them.” She nodded, my cock still in her mouth, and swirled her tongue along the underside of my shaft. She took my cock out of her mouth and curled her tongue around the head of it.

“Did you smell them?” Oh my God. She flicked her tongue across the head of my cock, and for a moment a strand of my pre-come went from the tip of my cock to the tip of her tongue. I could see it glisten in the light, and then she swallowed it up and went down on my throbbing cock again.

“Yes,” I managed to say between my ragged breaths.

Emily put her hands against my bare ass and pulled my body close to her, my cock buried all the way in her mouth. She began to bob back and forth, never quite letting my cock leave her mouth. She would let her lips slide to the ridge of my cockhead and then quickly slide my entire member back into her mouth. She moaned around my cock as she did this, and I could feel my balls beginning to tighten. She took one hand from my ass and cupped my balls with it and then slowly, inch by inch, withdrew my cock from her mouth while massaging my heavy balls.

As the last of my cock left her mouth, she looked up at me with a mischievous smile I had never seen before. She slid her exposed bra strap off her shoulder and winked at me. “Did it smell like my pussy?” she asked, and then she put my entire cock into her mouth, gently squeezed my balls, and I came in her mouth, my body bucking furiously, her hands moving back to my ass to keep my dick in her mouth.

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