A Rose By Any Other Name

Right after I finished high school I realized that I couldn’t get a job and that my parents couldn’t afford to send me to college. My friends tried to talk me into taking out loans but I didn’t want the debt. So there I was at sixteen without any future. All I had was a diploma and my love of photography.

I had received a nice digital camera for Christmas and in the past six months had become pretty good at photography.

We live on a dead end road with a dozen other houses and farms. It was a four-mile long dirt road.

My mother grew roses, very fragrant and large roses. She had a variety of colors.

One day I picked the prettiest yellow rose, wrapped it in a wet paper towel, and took my photo album down the road to our neighbor.

Mrs. Smith was older than my mother was, her husband worked at the local bank, and her children were in college or married.

When she answered the door I handed her the rose and said, “I can take pictures of you that will make you look prettier than this rose. May I show you some of my work?”

Mrs. Smith let me and offered me a glass of iced tea. We sat in the kitchen and she looked at each picture. She commented on several of them. The last four were of my mother. I had talked her into posing one day. She put on a dress that she wears to church, put her hair up in a bun, and applied some makeup. She put on a tight sweater with a bra and hard nipples and a short skirt. She put on a bikini and nothing else needs to be said about that. Mom looked great. In the last picture Mom was blushing, she had gotten very bold, and she put on a sex negligée for me. Apparently she didn’t know how easy it was to see right through it…or did she. It was light pink, it was thin nylon, and she was nude underneath. Her nipples, areolas, and pubic hair were visible. The light coming in the window made the ends of her hairs on her head glow and showed the gap between her legs under her pussy more visible.

That was the picture that Mrs. Smith stared at for a minute or two. Her nipples were hard and her one hand was cupping the opposite breast. She wasn’t even aware that she was doing it.

Finally Mrs. Smith asked, “Can you do one like this for me?”

I replied, “Yes, but I had to take a lot of pictures of her all over the house before I got that one.”

Mrs. Smith said, “I don’t care if it takes all day and hundreds of pictures. I want one that makes me look that good.”

I asked, “Is it for your husband?”

Mrs. Smith said, “No! I have a friend, a male friend, perhaps a boyfriend…only he’s no boy.”

I asked her if tomorrow would be good for her. She told me to show up right after I see her husband’s car pass my house on his way to work. She said that I would have about ten hours and that she would feed me lunch.

I jerked off thinking of her as I fell asleep that night. I was up early and ate breakfast. I was out in our yard sitting on my bicycle when I saw his blue Ford go by. I peddled as hard as I could and in two minutes flat I was knocking on her door.

Mrs. Smith opened it up and invited me in. She was wearing a short silk robe.

Mrs. Smith said, “I’ve given this a lot of thought and I want you to take the pictures outdoors.”

Wow! That would be perfect.

She opened up her robe and asked, “Is this okay to start with? I wanted to save the best for last.”

If that yellow baby doll nightie with matching panties was her worst one I could hardly wait to see the rest.

Mrs. Smith took me out back. She looked around and said, “Suppose we use that green bush as our background.”

I was so glad that she suggested it because I didn’t have a clue as to where to have her pose. My cock was rock hard and the shortage of blood to my brain was having its affect. Mrs. Smith stood in front of that bush while I took several pictures. I had her turn to the right, turn to the left, and I had her raise her arms, bend over, and squat. As I moved around to get the best picture of her open legs and those thin yellow panties she smiled.

She said, “That should be a good one. Maybe you should take a few more like that one, get closer if you want too. I shaved my pussy this morning just for you.”

I knelt down, I got closer, and then I lay on my back and took a picture of her open legs from almost ground level looking up.

She excused herself to go change into the next outfit. She didn’t even bother with her robe. It looked like a red bra with a skirt that did not cover her matching red panties. When she leaned over her big beautiful breasts tried to spill out. She had great cleavage so I told her so and asked her to hold that position for a while. She let them hang naturally, she pressed them together, and then she lifted them. I asked her to stand up and spread her legs. I slipped my legs between hers and laid back on the ground shooting right up at her crotch. I had her lean toward me a little so I got her breasts and her face in the picture. With her legs spread like that I saw a wet spot in the gusset of her panties. I liked it.

She went from nightie to nightie getting better and better. The colors were all pale and they got smaller and more transparent.

Eventually we stopped for lunch and I took pictures of her in the kitchen. She reached up into cupboards, bent over in the refrigerator, and squatted down to get something under the sink. After we ate she put the dishes in the sink and told me to follow her.

She took me into her bathroom, dropped her panties, and started to pee. She had to remind me to take pictures of her. That green top with spaghetti straps covered her pussy but with her panties around her ankles it sure was sexy.

I quickly got up the courage to kneel down in front of her and take more pictures, She smiled and opened up her legs slowly for me. I got a few pictures of her golden fluid flowing into the toilet. She took some toilet paper off the roll and wiped. She dropped the paper into the bowl and flushed.

Then Mrs. Smith said, “I guess I can skip the panties from now on.”

Boldly I said, “You can skip the tops too. You would look great nude.”

Mrs. Smith said, “Okay, but I want to put on my pearls. I have a spectacular set that my mother gave me. The earrings clip on like they did in the old days. My mother never had pierced ears. Only pirates in the movies had pierced ears.”

She removed her panties and carried them into her bedroom. She took off her top and put on her pearl necklace and earrings. Then she turned to let me take some nude pictures of her. She was right the pearls looked fabulous.

I took pictures of her like that in every room in the house and then we went outdoors. She posed all over the backyard, the side yard, and the front yard. Then she went out into the middle of the dirt road and just stood there for me. I would take a picture and she would turn. I shot pictures of her up the road and down the road.

She amazed me when she squatted down and peed again. It was more fluid than she had passed in the bathroom.

When Mrs. Smith walked down the center of the road toward my house I panicked. First someone could come along and catch us. Second my mother might see us and I’d get in trouble.

I took pictures along the way and even as she walked up our steps. She knocked in code. It was two quick knocks followed by two slow spaced out knocks.

Mom opened the door and stepped out. She was just as naked as Mrs. Smith was. Mom also had on a pearl necklace with pierced earrings that Dad had given her on their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

They kissed and then Mom said, “It took you long enough to get here.”

Mrs. Smith said, “I had him all to myself for five hours, now I’ll share him with you for the next five…until our husbands come home.”

Mom said, “Okay, but then I get him all to myself tomorrow.”

I was absolutely silent as they discussed what Mrs. Smith and I had done at her house. Then Mom took her into her rose garden.

Mom said, “I have always wanted a picture of this.”

I watched her pick an unopened rose bud. The stem was about four inches long and she made sure that there were no thorns on the stem. Mom sat on the grass, lay back, and opened her pussy lips. She tucked the stem into her slit and then pulled her lips across the stem trapping it into her pussy. She got up on her elbows and posed for me. I knew from photographing Mrs. Smith that I could get in really close if I wanted too. I wanted too. I had my camera set on the flower setting and was just inches from Mom’s shaved pussy lips with the rosebud in there. Her stretched lips looked like they were tied together around that stem. Mom looked great. I almost forgot to get some full-length pictures of her like that.

I leaned in, smelled her rosebud and her pussy, and said, “A rose by any other name would smell just as good.”

Mom said, “Wait until you see Tina with her feet behind her ears and a full rose bloom sticking out of her ass. She makes a might fine vase.”

I took hundreds of pictures of those two women together, by themselves, and even making out.

About a half-hour before their husbands came home Mom said, “For being such a good boy I’ll let you fuck Tina first. Then she can beat her husband home, hide your bicycle, and get dressed. That will give you a few minutes to fuck me. I’ll just run into the bathroom before Jim gets home.”

Mom picked up my camera and took pictures of me fucking Mrs. Smith. My cock slipped right in but I hardly even got it inside her before I started cumming. She just smiled and said, “Tomorrow your mother goes first.”

Mrs. Smith stuck around long enough to get a few pictures of my cock in my mother’s mouth and then in her pussy. She hadn’t even gotten to the road when I came in my mother.

Dad was a few minutes late and Mr. Smith’s car was a minute behind him.

That summer I took thousands of pictures of Mrs. Smith, Mom, and three other women that lived on our road. Sex was always part of the photography.

Older women were so good that I eventually married an older woman. Actually it was Mrs. Smith’s younger sister, younger by only three years but still older than my mother was.

The End
A Rose By Any Other Name
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