The next morning, Rose woke up much earlier than usual due to hunger and soreness. She laid on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as sunlight poured through the window of her room.
Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything after coming home last night.
"I'm starving..." she muttered as she slowly sat up.
Shifting slightly, she felt a sticky, tacky sensation clinging to her thighs and the small of her back. She glanced at the bedsheet and found the clear, glistening streaks of her own release.
A flush of heat crept up her neck as she recalled the desperation of her fingers, the way she had pushed herself, and the sheer, taboo thrill of fucking her own ass until she came.
She lifted her hand, the one she had used for her pleasure, and brought it to her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating, a pungent, musky cocktail of sweat, lingering cum and the sharp, citrusy tang of her own ass.
As she began to drift back into the memory of her climax, a loud growl erupted from her stomach again.
She stood up with a groan, stretching her limbs and began to undress. Between the frantic run home, and the intense need to satisfy her lust, she had completely neglected her body's basic needs.
She made her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the steaming water hit her skin and cascade over her shoulders. She took a sponge and started scrubbing herself meticulously, spending a long time cleaning her legs and washing away the dried streaks of cum and street grime that had clung to her thighs.
Then she used a fragrant soap to lather herself from top to bottom, sterilizing the odour. And when she reached her backside, she was gentle but thorough. She used her fingers to clean the rim of her asshole, scrubbing away the last of the slime and the remnants of the rough use she had endured.
As her fingers brushed against her swollen asshole, a shiver ran down her spine. She was tempted to lean her face against the tiles, slide her soapy fingers back inside her gaping hole and see if she could push herself over the edge once more.
However, she paused, remembering the raw sensation of the previous night. She decided against it, thinking that she should let her asshole recover and heal, for at least a few hours, before Nic inevitably decided he wanted to use it again.
And she couldn't afford to spend the whole morning playing with herself anyway.
Once she was clean and smelling of vanilla and soap, she stepped out and dried herself off with a towel. She then opened her wardrobe and reached for a new set of uniform and underwear.
As she slid a pair of fresh panties up her legs, she paused. She remembered the look in Nic's eyes as he held the thin fabric between his fingers and sniffed the dirty, soiled panties with a smirk. And the image of him shoving those wet panties into his pant pocket to keep as a trophy made her pussy twitch in anticipation.
Rose shook her head, trying to clear the erotic fog. She couldn't spend the whole morning in a state of arousal. She quickly got dressed and with one last glance in the mirror to adjust her uniform, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs to finally feed her starving stomach.
She quickly prepared a simple breakfast—toast and eggs, with a glass of orange juice, and sat down at the dining table to eat.
Halfway through her breakfast, her thoughts drifted elsewhere and she stared absentmindedly at her toast.
"Would he like it?" she whispered to the empty kitchen, her voice small and hopeful. And almost immediately, doubt crept into her mind. "I don't know... It might just bother him."
She took another bite, frowning thoughtfully.
For several moments, she sat in silence, weighing the idea back and forth in her head.
Then, as though reaching a decision, she nodded firmly. "I should at least try first."
With a sudden burst of energy, Rose finished the rest of her breakfast in a few quick bites and sprang into action. She looked through the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator, gathering what few vegetables, spices, and other ingredient she could find.
For the next hour and a half, Rose worked tirelessly. But despite the effort involved, she found herself smiling more and more as she cooked.
By the time she was finished cooking, several carefully prepared dishes sat neatly on the counter. She packed them into large airtight containers, ensuring they would stay warm and fresh.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she checked the time and nodded. She had plenty of time to deliver the food and get to school without being late.
Maybe they could even sneak some fun in between, if they were efficient. She giggled at her thoughts as she carefully placed the containers into a compact lunch bag.
"I should get going now!" she muttered and stepped into living room.
She then slipped on her shoes and hurried toward the front door, unable to hide the excitement shining in her eyes.
-•-•-
Rose stepped out of her house, locking the front door behind her and turned toward the new day. The morning air felt cool and refreshing against her skin.
Adjusting the strap of the bag over her shoulder, she held the bag of food containers close to her chest. She had a bright smile on her face wondering how Nic would react.
However, her enthusiasm came to a sudden halt after only a few steps.
Standing calmly on the street in front of the house, as if waiting for Rose to emerge, was Mrs. Lawson.
Rose froze in place, her grip tightening on the lunch bag in her arms as she noticed her neighbor.
Mrs. Lawson was a towering presence who commanded attention with just her stature. She stood around five foot ten inches tall, her long legs and big bust often made Rose feel small and inadequate.
She wore a blue cardigan over a simple white top paired with tailored black pants. Her shoulder-length hair was a mix of blonde and silver, framing her face neatly.
Despite being in her mid fifties, she looked incredible for her age and carried herself with grace and confidence.
Her facial features were slightly gaunt, with a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, marking the passage of time. Yet, the underlying structure of her face—the high cheekbones and the elegant line of her jaw spoke of a woman who had been a breath-taking beauty in her prime.
Though her clothing concealed most of her figure, the silhouette of Mrs. Lawson's body was unmistakable. She had a naturally curvy build with broad hips, and long legs. Her breasts were large, heavy and slightly saggy with time, creating a deep cleavage that strained subtly against her top.
Her posture was relaxed, hands folded neatly in front of her as she stared into the distance. As she shifted her weight, the black fabric of her pants hugged the generous swell of her hips and the rounded curve of her ass.
The only piece of jewelry on her was a delicate gold watch around her left wrist. It seemed to have lost its shine after years of wear but it stood out as a sharp contrast against her otherwise modest attire.
Rose stood there, unable to shake the feeling that her neighbor had been waiting specifically for her to step outside.
And as if sensing her gaze, Mrs. Lawson turned toward Rose, studying her for a moment before a gentle smile spread across her face.
"Good morning, Rose," she greeted warmly.