Hummingbird Rose Ch. 10

Violet pushes the tip of the strap-on past Rose's sphincter. It slides through, pushing deeper. Probing her depths and stretching her out. The feeling of complete and profound fullness overtakes her.

Violet hands clutch Rose's fat ass cheeks, pushing against her. Her soft belly mashes against Rose's ass, too. Fuck.

She's not going to be able to hold back long. No way. Even the feeling of her ass and her pussy filled is enough to send her out of her mind.

They fuck her, moving in and out of her ass and her pussy. It takes a minute, but Violet and Patrick fall into a steady rhythm. Patrick thrusts up into Rose, his cock penetrating deep in time to Violet fucking her ass.

Their thrusts alternate, hammering her holes with growing speed and vigor.

"Omigod I love this," Rose moans. "I love this so fucking much."

Patrick smiles at her. He places his hand on the back of her neck and pulls Rose's face down to his own. He kisses her, hard and strong as Rose notices the first signs of another orgasm approaching.

More raw fucking. Harder and deeper, both pussy and ass getting pounded. So hard her eyes roll back and it's an effort to speak.

"Oh fuck," she moans. "I'm gonna cum again."

This is gonna be a big one. She feels it. Senses its growing strength. Bubbling higher with every thrust both in her ass and her pussy. She can't think clearly, overwhelmed.

More pounding. Patrick thrusts upwards into her pussy, his hard body under her soft curves. Violet hammering her ass with the strap-on. Dildo and cock filling both her holes, working in tandem. Bringing her ever closer to the brink.

Closer now. So close. Any moment. Any. Moment.

Her orgasm arrives, an explosion of relief and pleasure overtaking her. All of her, bringing her joy and release. Sweeping all conscious thought away. Pure euphoria.

It subsides. Time returns. Conscious thought with it.

"Holy shit that was amazing," Rose moans.

Patrick looks up at her. He holds her face in his hands and they kiss. He thrusts up into her rapidly. Desperate, manic thrusting as his tongue twirls around hers. The thrusting of a man close to orgasm.

Rose bears down on his cock, kissing him harder. He likes when they kiss while he's fucking her. That always gets him off. Rose throws in a long moan to help him along further.

Behind, Violet fucks Rose's ass with the strap-on. She adds her own encouragement. "Go on, cum inside her. Cum inside her."

It doesn't take him much longer. He thrusts up one more time and holds it there, sighing. His cock throbs inside Rose. Rapid, strong pulses filling her with his cum.

"That's it, babe," she says. "Fill me up with your cum."

He kisses Rose again, fucking her slow. Violet follows his lead, slowing down as well. They each pull out of her, Violet first.

Rose gets off Patrick and lays on her side. Too spent to move.

The three of them lay afterwards on their sides, Rose in the middle. She spoons Patrick from behind, Violet does the same with her. Violet's arm is draped over Rose, holding her close. She kisses Rose's shoulder, the strap-on pressing against her ass crack.

The three of them are silent, breathing softly.

Rose would like to drift off to sleep, the three of them together. But it is not to be. Before long one of them will stir again and the spell will be broken. Bathrooms used, pajamas put on.

But not yet.

Rose resolves to enjoy this quiet interlude. A few minutes of relief and comfort and connection.

Her eyes grow heavy. Perhaps she will sleep, even if only for a few minutes. Not long enough to dream.

Then again, what is there to dream of when her waking hours bring experiences like these?

No dreams, then. Just rest.

***

Patrick has breakfast ready when the ladies come down in the morning. Coffee is poured and waiting. He gives them each a warm kiss.

"You're so good to us," Rose says.

"You deserve it," he tells her.

Violet can't stay, leaving after breakfast.

"I'm supposed to meet my mom for a walk," she says. "I'm a little sore from last night but I should be able to manage."

Hugs and kisses all around precede Violet's departure. Rose walks Violet to her car.

Rose puts her hand on Violet's shoulder. "How're you doing?"

"Good." There is a far-away look in her eyes. "Better than good. Wonderful."

Rose grasps her hand. "I'm so glad to hear it. It was a big night, wasn't it?"

"I'll say," Violet says. "But I'm glad. I feel like today is a new beginning. A new Violet. A better Violet."

They share a long vigorous hug.

Back inside, Rose and Patrick sit at the kitchen island.

"And how do you feel?" he asks her.

"Never better." She sips her coffee. "Sore as hell. Especially my butt, but otherwise amazing. And you?"

"Never better."

Rose sips her coffee. "I'll bet."

They laugh. Rose looks at him, a warm feeling in her heart. She freezes, her face going blank. I'm not falling in love with him, am I?

Rose turns her head, looking out the window. No, no, no. That wasn't supposed to happen. How did I let this happen?

"What's with the hummingbird in your bathroom?" he asks.

Rose snaps out of her trance. "What?"

"The picture taped to your bathroom mirror." He takes a bite of scrambled eggs. "The stained glass hummingbird."

"Oh. It's the new tattoo I've decided upon. Do you like it?"

"Of course," he says. "Hummingbird Rose."

"Did you ever figure that one out?" she says. "Remember, back on our second date? I told you it's what my oldest friends call me. You asked me why and I said it's your riddle to solve."

"I googled it. The hummingbird rose is a species of literal rose. It comes from Italy, where it's called la rosa colibri. Which happens to be..."

"My name. Or close enough."

"How does a family come to have a last name like Hummingbird?" Patrick asks.

"Therein lies an old family controversy," Rose says. "One branch says our great-great grandfather was a mafia assassin in Naples. He struck silently and earned the rather creepy nickname of the Hummingbird."

"Oh."

"The other branch claims he was a painter. This version says he needed to change his name because he was fleeing the mafia after impregnating the don's daughter."

"Your great-great grandmother?"

"The same," Rose says. "Grandma Rose told me it's how her grandma Rose found him in America. There was a painting of a hummingbird in his studio when they hatched their plan. He'd flee and take the name Colibrì. She'd follow, on a separate ship. When she arrived in New York, she knew what Italian language newspaper to advertise in inquiring about a lost hummingbird."

"With her father's men unable to track them down," Patrick says. "Which version do you think is true?"

"I think both can be true," Rose says. "But we'll never know."

"Such a beautiful family name," Patrick says. "Who'd have thought its origins were so dark?"

"What did I tell you, way back on our first date?" Rose sips her coffee. "Appearances can be deceiving."

Patrick puts his hands on hers. "I want you to know something."

Rose puts her coffee down. "Okay."

"I love everything about our relationship. The fun and companionship. The sex. The openness."

"But?"

Patrick looks into her eyes. "There is no but. I love everything about our relationship, Rose, everything. And, I love you."

I know. She squeezes his hand.

"I love you, too."

***

Rose walks to her mailbox after Patrick drives off, processing her feelings. They'd said it, hadn't they? Wow. Now that's out in the open.

She takes out the mail and looks up. Mrs. Driscoll is standing in front of her, her dog on its leash.

"Holy shit," Rose says. "You scared me."

"Sorry, dear," Mrs. Driscoll says. "I thought you saw me."

"I always see you, don't I?" Rose says. "Every time someone's coming or going. There you are."

"Neighbors keep an eye out for each other. That's what we do."

"Talking to that gossip Danielle?" Rose says. "Telling her my shit, I bet. That's looking out for me?"

Mrs. Driscoll's face darkens. "Why don't you knock it the fuck off?"

Rose jerks back in surprise.

"You think I'd tell that gossiping bitch a thing?" Mrs. Driscoll says. "The first rule of gossips is if they gossip to you, they gossip about you."

She shakes her head. "So, no, I didn't tell her about the various gentlemen who stop by your place, one at a time or in pairs. Nor a word about the big redhead with the nice tits."

"So you have been watching me," Rose says.

"I know what you think," Mrs. Driscoll says. "That I'm an old prude, shocked by your sexual adventures. I graduated college in 1974, honey. You might've heard what went on back then. Why does every generation think they invented sex? That we weren't just as horny?"

"I, um—"

"I'll tell you another thing," Mrs. Driscoll says. "My husband and I lived in Southern California in the late seventies. Goddamn, the orgies we'd go to in Santa Monica. Those were weekends to remember."

Rose can't find words to respond.

"You think I take note of your guest list because I'm shocked or something?" Mrs. Driscoll points her finger at Rose. "I was keeping score, sweetie, and kicking your ass!"

"What? I, um."

"I have plenty of my own gentleman and lady friends. But you don't notice because you don't think anyone over a certain age can be sexual. You think the married couple who visit me every Thursday is there to play cards? They're into femdom. We tie him up, then take turns eating each other's pussies in front of him before we finally let him jerk off."

"Oh."

"You've seen the pair of tall, handsome men with silver hair who visit me, haven't you?" she says. "They've been banging me together for years. Since well before my husband passed."

Mrs. Driscoll sighs. "George used to love watching them DP me. It got him so cranked up he'd fuck me every day two or three time for weeks afterwards. He burned through viagra like they were candy."

Rose is dumbstruck.

"You know," Mrs. Driscoll says. "He died fucking my girlfriend Carol up the ass while I was in the other room banging Carol's husband and another dude. It was a tragedy, but at least he went out doing what he loved most."

Mrs. Driscoll starts to turn away, then stops. "And you think you're something special. Try and keep pace."

Mrs. Driscoll stomps off. Rose stands by her mailbox speechless.

***

"It's gorgeous," Violet says.

"Thanks," Rose says. "I'm happy the way it turned out."

"Does it hurt much?" Violet asks.

"Not much."

Rose's new tattoo is at the top of her back at the nape of her neck. In the white tank top Rose is wearing, it's easily visible. The stained glass hummingbird now emblazoned on her back.

They're sitting on Rose's patio eating lunch. It's been a month since Eric's party. They lift their wine glasses in salute as Mrs. Driscoll walks by with her dog.

Mrs. Driscoll gives them a regal nod. Rose nods her head in acknowledgment. All hail the true queen of Osprey Lane.

"Things with Manuel sound like they're going well," Rose says.

Violet holds up crossed fingers. "One month dating and enjoying every minute together. Good sense of humor, kind heart, good in bed. I'm hopeful you're the reason my curse is broken."

"I'm glad. You're a hot couple. I wish you all the luck in the world, even if it means you and Manuel fall in love and get married and I have to give you up."

"Give you up? Why'd I have to do that?"

"I don't know," Rose says.

Violet puts her hand atop Rose's. "I told Manuel about us. He said he'd never want me to give you up for him."

"I like the sound of that."

They share a knowing glance and grasp each other's hand. Violet's eyes fall upon Rose's pendant. "You still insist this thing isn't magic, huh?"

"I do. Why would a rose pendant from a flea market have magic powers? That's not how the universe works."

"But still," Violet says. "It did make your erotic dreams come true. Everyone around you, too. Me, Patrick, Manuel. Eric got his dream threesome before flying off to his dream job. Even Trevor lost his virginity and found a hot girlfriend."

Rose sips her drink, staring into the distance.

"You're the hub," Violet says. "Making all our dreams come true. It all revolves around you. The sun in our solar system."

"I don't know about that." Rose pauses. "But whatever it all is, it's not magic."

"Then what is it?"

"The power of positive thinking. I decided to go for what I want and not apologize. And I selected the right friends to make it happen, too. Remember what the lady told me when she sold it to me?"

"What was it?"

"She said the pendant could make the owner's erotic dreams come true. But only if the owner understood the meaning of the riddle. The riddle of the magic rose."

Violet tilts her head. "Then was the riddle?"

It seems so long ago, when Rose bought the pendant on a whim.

"She said the riddle was 'what is the magic rose?' The answer's simple, in the end."

"What is it?" Violet asks.

Rose smiles.

"I am the magic rose."