0 comments/ 31498 views/ 1 favorites Hanna Ch. 01-05 By: TonyDowse The following material is sexually explicit erotica. If you are offended by hard-core pornography close this file. Chapter 1 A Face in a Picture Having won a construction consultancy contract with one of the European Union agencies some years ago, I established an office in Paris. I had found I had something of a flair for languages at school and within a few months I was able to have an easy if not completely fluent conversation and even my continuing Australian accent proved to be a benefit rather than a hindrance. Because it was unusual and not easy to place it apparently added a touch of mystery as to my origins, so people tended to remember me, and that's always good for business. So as the years went by my business prospered and even after liberally greasing a wide range of contact wheels I was surprised at just how much money there was to be made in that disparate group of countries. Although I had always loved music I could never consider myself a true aficionado, but kept an eye on what concerts and recitals were coming up and frequently took one or other of my female friends to something I considered special. So it was one Sunday morning, when I was glancing through the arts section of the paper to see what was coming up, that I first saw a photograph of Hanna. I didn't know her name then and was curious as to why it wasn't mentioned in the small box of copy accompanying the photograph. The men she was with were all named, and they were all names I had heard of as being prominent in musical patronage circles. But it was the young woman that had first caught my eye, and it was her face I found myself returning to again and again as I slowly finished my brioche and coffee. She was no classical beauty; her face had too many prominent features and her expression too much underlying strength to be called beautiful. But there was something powerfully attractive about the compelling, almost commanding look the photograph had captured. A few discrete enquiries told me less than I had expected, just that she was reputedly descended from one of the older royal families of Central Europe, which perhaps accounted for the haughty, slightly bored expression on the face in the photograph. However, like so many of those families, whatever wealth there had been was long gone, no doubt dissipated by a series of idle and frequently dissolute relatives. Hanna had been left to survive as best she could in a world not overly impressed by blood-lines alone. I was told she was somehow connected with a group of people who sought out and frequently sponsored promising musicians, especially composers, though exactly what the connection and her role was remained unclear. Rumour had it that she had several, powerful, shall we say 'patrons', who provided for her material needs. Rumour was less clear as to what she had done, or perhaps still did to warrant their support. Some implied her potentially damaging knowledge of activities, either business or personal that the men had engaged in. Some that she was in fact a conduit to a complex web of political power-brokers. Some simply settled for her having strange, almost unnatural sexual capabilities. Normally such a mish-mash of gossip and innuendo would have signalled the end of the business for me, I had too many more profitable avenues to explore to waste any more time or money. But I was not satisfied by a report that merely gave me name and a sketchy, rumour-filled background, and told my usually reliable sources as much. I also pointed out that if they began to be that ineffective in other matters we would soon all be without income. Even so, although it was fairly predictable that an attractive, still apparently unattached and somewhat mysterious woman risked having the label hung on her, the hint of unusual sexual activity was intriguing and that spurred me on. I decided to do some leg-work of my own, attending more concerts, especially those that featured performances of new works, and keep both my eyes and ears wide open. It was a couple of weeks before I saw her in the flesh, but even though fleeting, that one occasion added fuel to the strange fire that had been flickering inside me. The newspaper photograph had not done her full justice, the strong features were there, and also the air of authority I had seen, but she was in reality far more attractive than I had expected. I had sat through one of the most pretentiously boring pieces of music I had ever heard, and gone to the bar for a reviving drink before skipping the second half of the concert. Standing there listening to the superlatives being cast about I had the feeling that everyone else had been listening to some completely different work to the one I had endured, then I saw her. She was alone, at that moment pausing on the short flight of steps that led down to the bar, her eyes quickly searching the crowd for whomever it was she was meeting. For a moment they caught mine, but their expression remained flat and, like the beam from a light-house, swept on. She stood there for no more than three, perhaps four seconds, but although I didn't know it at the time, that was quite long enough for that particular image of her to become a permanent part of my memory bank. She was relatively tall, her figure slim but not excessively so, even though the black business suit was designed to flatter, not flaunt, the body inside it was most definitely that of a woman. Underneath the jacket she was wearing a cyclamen coloured silk shirt that contrasted dramatically with the creamy whiteness of her skin. Her pale complexion in turn made her dark hair seem almost black, and although it was not cut in one of the latest fashions it was styled to suit the shape of her face. Softly framing it and enhancing her youthful beauty, while the three subtly blending streaks of grey complimented the air of maturity and authority she exuded. I took in all those details in a split-second, using the rest of the few moments available to study her face. The strength I had seen in the photograph was there, the air of confident self-assurance. But what the photographer had not caught were all the other things I felt sure I saw. The beauty of the bone structure beneath the outer features, the Slavic inheritance clear in the high cheek bones that gave an attractive upward tilt to the outer corners of her eyes - and what eyes they were - large, set wide apart, and even from across the room I could see how brightly their light colouring glittered. Her search apparently found the person she was looking for but before she moved down the last few steps she turned her head and looked in my direction again. When she found my eyes were still looking directly at her she arched one eye-brow, then when I didn't immediately look away, I saw a faint smile curling the corners of her mouth. Then the moment passed, she joined the crowd and made her way to a group of people chatting on the opposite side of the bar. I finished my drink and left, but remained bewildered by the surge of emotions I had felt during those few, brief seconds. I knew I had to see her again, see her, and next time, talk to her. Chapter 2 A Chance Meeting As luck would have it, or so I thought at the time, I did, just a few evenings later, at another, much more satisfactory concert. Again I had made my way to the bar at the interval and while waiting to catch the bar-tenders eye, heard a voice say. 'Somewhat more enjoyable than the other evening, Mr. McHenry?' Turning my head at the sound of my name I found myself looking straight into those eyes, which I saw were in fact light grey, flecked with silvery bronze highlights. 'Definitely yes.' I replied. 'But you have the advantage of me Miss, Mrs.?' She smiled. 'Oh come Mr. McHenry, as you well know, it's Hanna, two n's, no h. I'm sure that appeared on the first page of the report your associates prepared for you.. I'll have a glass of champagne please.' she said as the bar-tender came to where we were standing. 'I'll be just over there, and you can tell me whether I should be worried, or flattered.' she added with a smile as she pointed to a far corner. Naturally enough I was intrigued by what she had said. Obviously her contacts had been far more professional than mine, but I wondered why she had disclosed she knew I had been enquiring about her. There was only one way to find out, so I carried the drinks through the milling crowd and found she had somehow managed to secure a small table for us. I handed her one glass, sat, and raised mine. 'Votre santé.' We clinked glasses and sipped the wine. 'So Mr. McHenry, should I be worried or flattered?' she asked sweetly. 'Some day you'll have to tell me which of my contacts has been less than discrete.' I replied. 'But I assure you my interest was, is, purely personal. But even if it wasn't, your shields are very strong, I still know hardly anything about you.' She laughed, a soft but deep-throated laugh that sent shivers of excitement up my spine. 'Well perhaps all you needed to do was ask me. What exactly was it you wanted to know Mr. McHenry.' 'Mac, please call me Mac, and may I call you Hanna?' I asked, using the familiar pronoun. 'Of course Mac. So, ask away, but first, tell me why the interest in the first place?' I told her about seeing her photograph in the paper, and that my curiosity had been aroused not only by her face but also by the fact that her name wasn't included in the caption beneath it. And that then my curiosity had deepened when my initial enquiries had been so fruitless. Of course I didn't mention the one thing that had in fact spurred me to keep digging, the hint of unusual sexual activity that had been mentioned in the report. 'So what do you think of the Foundation Mac?' 'The foundation?' 'The FCMM, the Foundation for Contemporary Music and Musicians.' 'Ah, I knew you were involved in assisting and promoting new music and musicians, I didn't know there was a Foundation.' 'Your contacts were either remiss or careless Mac, the Foundation is quite well known, in musical circles at least. We do very good work, quite a few talented musicians have already been greatly assisted by our support.' 'I see, and what is involved in becoming a member?' 'An initial donation, which, as we are registered and recognised, may have some tax saving implications for some, then an annual amount, which varies according to circumstance and need.' 'And the amount of the initial donation?' 'One hundred thousand dollars, US of course.' she replied calmly. The sum took my breath away, and she smiled when she saw my reaction. 'Membership entitles you to tickets to a wide range of stimulating performances Mac. And the work we do is important for the future well-being of music. In these days of economic rationalisation mere talent all too often goes unrecognised and unrewarded. I believe what we do is actually vital to the Art.' 'I can see and appreciate that Hanna, but a hundred thousand is still a lot to pay for feeling good about doing something for Art.' 'Oh, I'm sorry if that is beyond your means, my own information about you must have been incorrect.' she said flatly, making a move to get up. 'No, wait!' I said hurriedly, reaching across the table and clasping her hand. 'It's not the money, it just seems, well, it seems rather a lot.' I added lamely. She relaxed back into her chair, then leaned forward towards me. 'There are other benefits too.' she said in a much quieter voice. 'But I can't discuss those here, you understand?' 'Of course.' I replied, without having the foggiest notion of what she meant, but at the same time having a flash of inspiration. 'Why not skip the second half, have dinner with me, somewhere discrete, then you can go into all the details.' She smiled, and I saw how her eyes had suddenly taken on an extra sparkle. 'That could be arranged, and it might be mutually beneficial, do you have somewhere in mind?' I mentioned the name of a small restaurant I had used on previous occasions for delicate business negotiations. 'Yes, I know it. An excellent chef and a good cellar, and more importantly, very private. But if I am to leave I have to talk to a few people first, I could meet you there in about half an hour. Is that all right?' 'Sounds perfect to me Hanna, are you sure you wouldn't prefer me to wait, drive you myself?' 'Thank you but no Mac, I have my car here, it will be easier to drive separately. Now you must excuse me.' she added as she rose from the table. I sat and watched her go, moving gracefully, slipping easily between the knots of people, and briefly wondered exactly what I was letting myself in for. Then, using my mobile phone I rang the restaurant and made sure the Maitre d' could reserve an appropriate table for us. My previous generous tipping had registered my name in his mind and he quickly assured me they would look forward to taking care of us. That done I left and headed for my car, my mind filled with thoughts and images from the all too brief time with Hanna. Although both the memory of the glimpse of generous cleavage I had seen when she leaned towards me, and the way her slim body moved as she walked away, returned from time to time, it was another image that dominated. Her face. It was face that defied normal concepts of beauty. Apart from the unusual colour and expressiveness of her eyes, if one took each feature separately they would be considered too large or too prominent. The broad forehead and the strikingly high cheek-bones that gave an almost cat-like upward tilt to her eyes. The full, generous lips and mouth and strong, but still feminine jaw-line. It was a perfect case of the effect of the whole being far, far greater than the sum of the individual parts. Knowing I would have time to wait for her to join me I drove unusually slowly, pushing away the image of her as I concentrated on the traffic and reconsidered what little information she had given me. A hundred thousand, plus an annual contribution of indeterminate size still seemed a ridiculously large amount for a small, not that well known organisation. Then I suddenly remembered what she had said that prompted me to suggest dinner. 'Other benefits.' What 'other benefits' could a musical foundation have to offer? I also remembered the vague rumours my enquiries had uncovered, hints of 'unusual sexual practices'. But the juxtaposition made no sense. Sex to live musical accompaniment? Sex with musically gifted performers? With instruments? I let my mind wander through a range of bizarre concepts, none of which either intrigued or aroused me, so gave up and decided to wait for more actual information. Having explained to the Maitre d' that the lady I was dining with had been delayed he brought me a drink, and then I used the time to get on with some business notes and calculations. But unlike most women Hanna was as good as her word, within half an hour she had joined me, greeting me in English and then saying she would be happy to continue in that language. Both her command and accent were almost flawless, having just a faint, most attractive inflection on certain words and we spent some time discussing the menu and the wines. Once our decisions were made we continued chatting, exchanging personal preferences for music and musicians and what concerts we had recently been to. Even though we both politely avoided the subject that was the actual reason for us being there, I got the feeling I was being scrutinised, evaluated. The way those truly extraordinary eyes watched me was a little disconcerting, as though they were searching for flaws, weaknesses that might show up in the smallest uncontrolled word or movement. So it was not until we had just about finished the main course that I finally turned our conversation to the matter that had brought us there. 'You said there were other benefits to membership of the foundation Hanna.' 'True.' she replied, placing her knife and fork down. 'But shall we order dessert and coffee first, then we won't be disturbed.' 'I am surprised that a woman with such a beautiful figure allows herself dessert.' I said with a grin. 'Nature has been kind to me Mac, and I have found that so long as I don't over-indulge, she continues to do so. But thank you for the implied compliment.' she added sweetly. I added cognac to our dessert and coffee orders and once they had been brought to us she began talking. She kept her voice low, so I had to concentrate to be sure I didn't miss, or misinterpret what she said and so left the questions that came to mind until later. 'To begin with Mac, this is a most unusual conversation for me, you are the first to enquire about membership of the Foundation this way. Normally potential members are introduced by two or more existing members, so we have some way of knowing much of the person's background beforehand. I suppose the usual way is typically Gallic, the arrogance of not wanting to let 'outsiders' in. But then as you know, I am not French by birth so perhaps my standards are understandably different. I trust that will help explain some of the caution you may think I am using in the matter. Although the Foundation is essentially my creation, there are now others who like to think their role is equally, if not more important.' she added with an almost conspiratorial smile. 'I should explain that Music has always been my passion. And my greatest disappointment has always been that I have no real talent for it. What few talents I have are for totally unrelated matters, organisation, communication, and some creative abilities in interpreting information. But more of that later I think. So, with a great love driving me I suppose it was only natural I should look for other ways I could be involved in Music. That's where the idea for the Foundation originally came from. But it was an idea that would need funds, and even at the time of my initial idea that meant large amounts of money. Where was I to get it? How was I to influence the people, usually men, who had it? How to persuade them to part with some of what they had?' She paused to sip her coffee, but her eyes never left mine. 'You understand the problem Mac, you have to deal with the same thing in your line of business. How to get what you want from people who are often reluctant to share it with you.' 'Quite true Hanna.' I replied. 'But I have found most men have their price, not all, but most.' 'And have you found that the price is not always cash?' 'Frequently. Cash can be hard to explain, difficult to use or hide ' 'Exactly, some alternatives?' 'Oh a variety of things. Property in out of the way places with titles lost in a web of complexity. Holidays in exotic places that are disguised as business conferences, meetings or seminars. Fine wines delivered in unobtrusive boxes. Depending on the size of the deal there are many ways.' 'And sex?' 'With men, very often sex, yes.' 'That was what I thought when I began to think through my problem. But although I could imagine that sex with what is of course essentially just a prostitute, might be initially exciting, over time it would lose much of that. I thought that in order to keep the donors coming back for more, I needed to find something to make the event dramatically different.' 'A tricky problem.' 'Yes it was, and it took some time before the answer occurred to me, and even more time to work out how to go about it. The answer you see was, fantasy.' 'Fantasy?' 'Yes, we all have them, even you Mac. But again we'll go into that later, that is if you want to. But in brief, what we do is to provide our members with an outlet for their long-held sexual fantasies. That is so long as they do not involve actual harm to anyone of course. We have had to rule out several potential members because their subconscious desires were frankly just too disgusting, or too violent.' Hanna Ch. 01-05 'How did you discover that?' 'Oh it's amazing what men discuss over the third or fourth bottle of wine, especially if being prompted by friends who are apparently sharing confidences. As I said, you are the first to approach us this way Mac, without first having been vetted by existing members. You see my problem?' 'I do, and I am surprised you are sitting here telling me this.' 'In some ways so am I Mac, so am I. But again, let's leave that to some time later also.' 'From the number of things you are leaving to later it would seem we will be having several more conversations Hanna.' I replied with a grin. She gave that low, deep-throated laugh I had heard before, the one that made my toes curl. 'I hope so.' she said softly, then added. Now, I must ask if you are still interested?' 'Most certainly. If only as an excuse to continue meeting you.' Even in the relatively low light I felt sure that for a moment I saw a faint blush of colour tinge her cheeks, certainly the look in her eyes told me the meaning behind my words had been understood. 'That's another matter altogether Mac. But let me continue.' she said quickly. 'You appreciate that participating in such activities, even though handled with the utmost discretion, puts everyone concerned at great risk.' 'I was going to ask you about the risk of black-mail.' 'We are always on guard, but I developed a scheme that has proved successful for several years now. The American defence policy gave me the idea. It's MAD, Mutually Assured Destruction.' 'The nuclear defence policy that existed during the Cold War between the USA and Russia?' 'Exactly! What we have can utterly destroy you, and what you have can do the same to us. So neither can risk cheating on the other, simple really. And it works, at least it has so far.' she added with a cheeky grin. 'But how...?' 'When the time comes to join, the new member provides us with documentation of something that would destroy them socially or financially, in exchange for which we give them documentation that would do the same to us. You see?' 'Mutual trust, but enforced.' 'Exactly.' 'And people are prepared to do that, for sex?' 'Ah, but sex that is different to anything they have experienced before. Sex that satisfies not just the body but also the deepest corners of their minds. That's what they will risk everything for. Well to be fair, not everyone will, but enough do. I'm not trying to sign-up the entire planet you see.' 'And wealthy people can be the most bored, the most jaded.' 'Precisely so, that was the key. They already have everything, or can buy it whenever they want. Everything material that is, and the material does not satisfy that long buried yearning for something as elusive as a fantasy.' 'But how do you go about providing for people's fantasies?' 'You must expect me to keep some secrets Mac, just accept that in most cases I, that is we, do. You must understand that I am not personally involved in the activities, I just facilitate their happening.' 'Well I must admit that in one way that is a great disappointment.' 'In one way?' 'The obvious way, that I will not be taken care of by you personally.' 'But?' 'But I'm extremely glad to hear you are not taking care of all the other men.' She said nothing for a moment, our eyes locked, as though each was probing the other for some sign, some indication of something indefinable. Then, as though she had given herself a quick mental shake, she continued. 'So, are you interested in going further? That is as much as I can tell you without your agreement in principal.' 'Of course I'm interested. What happens from here?' 'We need to make some enquiries about you, I have myself already made a few of course or we would not be talking like this. But there need to be more. I tell you this in case someone is less discrete than we would like and word gets back to you. While that is going on you need to search your mind on two subjects. One, what information would bring you down? What documents do you have that would substantiate that? The other, what are you deepest fantasies? Not the day-to-day imaginings that stir each of us, but those in the deepest recesses of your mind, those that you may not have even admitted to yourself. When the time comes I will talk to you again, explore your thoughts and perhaps help you confirm or consolidate them into something specific. Then, with documents prepared and the money provided, we expect bank cashier's cheques of course, we install you as a member and make an appointment for your first experience. Oh, and one other thing, you will need to attend a medical examination with one of our doctors.' 'A medical?' 'A natural and necessary precaution in these days of unpleasant infections Mac. I assure you it is all done with the utmost discretion.' 'OK, but do the members know each other?' 'Some do, most of those that do were what I think of as the foundation members of the Foundation. They all knew each other before of course, and because the usual route to membership is via nomination many have in time got to know which of their friends and acquaintances are also members. But as a general rule, no, we recommend individuals treat their membership as a purely personal business.' 'Do you have women members?' 'A good question. For some time we did not, but then times change and we must change with them. But there are some essential differences between male and female fantasies, I'm speaking generally of course. Men are usually more profoundly stimulated by what they see, their fantasies more reliant on visual experiences than are most women's. That difference alone makes the creation of satisfactory experiences for women far more complex. But to answer your question, yes we now do, but just a very, very small number.' 'And how many members are there altogether?' 'That too is private Mac, but not as many as you might think, we are not motivated by greed, and quality of service is our first priority. One of the reasons we ask for annual donations is so we can continue the work without having to unnecessarily increase membership numbers. Now, unless you have any more questions.' she said, draining the last of her cognac. I took the hint and called for the bill, then having said she would phone me with a time and place for the medical examination and then again as soon as her enquiries were complete, and reminding me to think down into my subconscious, with no more than a firm hand-shake, she left. Chapter 3 Thoughts and Discoveries She rang me the following morning with the name of the doctor and I confirmed I could make the tentative appointment she had made for me for the following morning. I took that opportunity to tell her just how much I had enjoyed our meal together, adding that I hoped that even if the business with the Foundation should for some reason fail, that I would have another opportunity to see her. Her reply was brief and verging on the formal, but I thought I detected a note implying that would please her too. Then she rang off. I spent much of the next few days thinking through all of what had happened and what she had said during our meal together. The Foundation and the linking of the seemingly disparate concepts behind it. The information Hanna had said she would need from me. The look I thought I had seen in her eyes on a couple of occasions. Which of the various deals was I prepared to provide her details of? The manipulation of funds I would need to arrange between my various companies that would best provide the cash. That look in her eyes. The thought of essentially baring my soul to her. What was there that I could tell her, what fantasies did I have? The more I thought about the last question the less confident I felt. Since my business had started to grow most of my time had actually been devoted to it. That had been the main cause of the final break-down of my marriage. Since then there had been women, many women. Some purely decorative companions for social functions. Some purely bed-warmers. A few had combined both functions for a while. But none had broken through the shell I had developed over the years, the shell that enabled me to do what was necessary to drive the business upwards. Looking back it seemed a sad, but not unusual story of a successful, but lonely businessman. So I dug back further, before I had moved to Europe, before I had even thought such a thing possible. Back to when I was a brightly enthusiastic young man, back to when I was a student at university. Back to my teen-age years, back, back, back, searching for something, something that would trigger something else. But as so often happens, the more I thought, the less I found, then, when I was in the middle of deciphering a particularly complex legal interpretation of a contract I was interested in, the memory flashed back. I was about thirteen, on my way home from school. It was late because I had been in detention for some minor misdeed and as it was winter it was already dark, lights starting to come on in house and apartment windows. As I climbed the hill towards where we lived I found myself thinking about the girl, well she was a woman actually, probably in her late twenties, who lived in the apartments on the opposite side of the road. She and her husband had moved in a couple of years before, then about six months prior to this evening, he had been killed in a car accident. And, although of course I didn't know it at the time, at about just the same time as that happened the flood of puberty inducing hormones had really started coursing through my body. I had previously discovered that from our bath-room window I could get a limited view into a couple of rooms in her flat and the surging hormones and the fact that she was there alone, gave me the incentive to spend as much time as I dared to keep watch for a glimpse of her. She was a brunette, her long, wavy hair giving her what I thought was a Spanish look. I had no real idea of what that meant, but thought it was somehow coupled with having a fiery, passionate temperament, and that was more than enough to feed my fantasies about her. I don't remember anything about whatever they were but imagine they involved her being lonely and needing me to somehow satisfy her own still raging needs. Anyway, back to the evening when I was returning late from school. Each building along our street had a small strip of garden separating it from the road and the one outside hers had been planted with small, thickly foliaged ornamental trees. Until that evening I had always considered this a nuisance because they blocked any view in from that side, and I had worked out that was where her bed-room was. But as I got closer and saw the light was on in that room, I suddenly realised that one of the trees might actually give me a perfect opportunity. Checking that there was nobody else in the street I hopped over the low wall, dropped my bags at the base of the tree and scrambled up into it. Once high enough I wedged myself into a fork and reached forward to push the branches apart. By sheer luck my timing was perfect. She had presumably just got home from work and was changing to go out for the evening, and, perhaps because she was in a hurry, had not bothered to draw the curtains. As I pushed the branches apart and looked in through the window I saw her. She was standing with her back to me and was just reaching down for the hem of her skirt, then I felt my heart miss several beats as I stared at what I saw as she pulled it up. To this day I can still see that sight, she had long, slender legs, the skin a pale olive colour, the flesh firmly rounded. And although panties were nowhere near as brief as they have now become, at that moment I thought they were the sexiest things I'd ever seen, black, almost transparent nylon, just barely covering the roundly swelling globes of her arse. As her skirt rose higher, so did my cock, filling and stiffening almost instantaneously. But what happened next made it almost burst out of my trousers. Perhaps because she was in a rush, once up past her waist she tugged her dress more quickly, giving me a clear view of her matching black bra strap, but at the same time catching her hair in the zip. So, what had started out as what would probably have been no more than a quick, couple of seconds look at her, turned into a minor soft-porno show. She stood there struggling with her dress, trying to free her hair from the metal teeth, giving me a perfect view of her back, and more importantly, her bottom and thighs. I couldn't help myself, even though I had only one hand free as I continued staring at her I reached down, unzipped my trousers and pulled out my cock. But then, as though on cue, the show got even better. As she continued struggling she was moving about, gradually turning herself, turning towards the window. I could almost feel my eyes bulging as I saw what was happening, my hand moving faster as I silently prayed she would turn a little more, a little more, just a little more towards me. And she did, a few moments later it wasn't the bulge of her bottom I was staring at but the much smaller, but a thousand times sexier bulge between her thighs. The mass of curly black pubic hair made a dark shadow against the thin nylon, and I could also see a few stray wisps peeping out from under the edge of her panties. Then everything happened at once. She finally got her hair free from the zip and pulled her dress up over her head. I suddenly had a clear view of everything, not only her bulging pussy but also the way her breasts seemed to be trying to spill out from her bra. It was too much, I felt the dizzying rush, then heard myself grunt as the first searing wave surged up through me. And in the same moment, having removed her dress and found herself looking straight out of the window, she saw me, the light streaming from it illuminating me, and let her see exactly what I was doing. I saw the initial look of shock and horror on her face, but as I was in the grip of my climax, could do nothing about it. I felt the first load searing up through my wildly jerking cock, then my hand flashing faster and faster, and then the blissful relief as the rest of the churning semen jetted out after it. Then of course the feelings that had driven me were instantly replaced by the most horrendous flood of shame and guilt. I didn't know what to do, I just wanted the ground beneath the tree to literally open up and swallow me. But then something happened that changed everything, meant that an experience that could have become one I desperately wanted to forget, became one that would be forever filed away in my brain. She smiled at me. Of course I have no idea if her smile was one of understanding or mere amusement, but with the benefit of hindsight I realised that it had undoubtedly changed some aspects of my sex-life forever. In effect that smile gave me permission to look, to enjoy looking. And even though the memory itself had become subsumed by all the subsequent sexual events in my life, I suddenly realised that ever since then that's what I had enjoyed doing. With every lover, and even during the early, happy years of my marriage, I had found watching them one of the most stimulating aspects of the physical relationship. Whether bathing, dressing, and of course undressing, even just seeing them apply their make-up, watching them do so had always aroused me, sometimes much more strongly than others, but always arousing. The revelation was astounding, it's impact breath-taking. How could I have spent most of my life being so totally unaware of what was going on inside my own head? Chapter 4 Membership Having had the required medical examination, decided which of my business dealings to use as cross-insurance, drawn a number of cheques totalling the amount Hanna had stipulated, and with the details of my long forgotten memory fresh in my mind, I waited. She rang me the following week and after initial pleasantries said that the results of the medical were satisfactory, then asked if I had the other three things she needed ready. The sound of her voice excited me more than I had expected it to, but I replied as calmly as I could manage. 'Two are sitting in my top drawer, the third in the forefront of my mind Hanna.' 'Good, so now we make a time to meet, what evening next week is best for you?' Next week, I would have to wait nearly another week before seeing her again. A week suddenly seemed an age, but again I tried to control the tremor of disappointment in my voice as I answered. 'Any evening except Monday.' 'So, shall we say Tuesday evening, about nine o'clock?' 'Perfect. Where do we meet, the same restaurant?' 'Oh I think not, you have things to give me, things to tell me, and exchanging such things in public is not wise. I have an apartment in the Hotel Bellecoeur. Do you know it?' When I said I didn't she gave me the name of a street in one of the no longer fashionable suburbs. Then, having told me the concierge would show me up and that she was looking forward to seeing me again, she hung up. I put the receiver down with a trembling hand, then sat there staring at it, trying to bring my emotions under control. Although the prospect of handing over the envelopes in my desk drawer might have accounted for the rush of adrenaline I knew it wasn't just that. The sound of her voice had triggered it, just the sound of her voice. Surely that wasn't possible? In spite of the amount of work I set myself to complete, the days seemed to drag by, and the nights were even longer. I woke many times, woke bathed in perspiration, and often with a raging erection that refused to subside until, like that thirteen year old, I relieved myself. My dreams were a crazy confusion of images and events, many, though not all, apparently totally unrelated to either the woman in my earliest sexual memory, or Hanna. But it was those that were that were the most disturbing, those were the ones that forced me to masturbate in the early hours of the morning. In some Hanna was the woman I was seeing through the bed-room window. She who was slowly, tantalisingly slowly removing the business suit. But, unlike the woman from all those years ago, all the time she was doing that she was also watching me, smiling at my reactions to what she was doing. But perhaps the most disturbing of all was the one that required no manual assistance to deflate my initially super-engorged cock. In that one I was watching the Spanish looking woman, but somehow knew that Hanna was at the same time watching me. Then as the woman continued moving about in front of the window I got more and more excited, until it felt as though my cock was about to explode. Then I looked down to find Hanna kneeling in front of me, staring at my cock. But as I woke from the dream I realised she was slowly shaking her head from side to side in disappointment. Somehow I managed to control my almost out of control emotions during the day, hurrying from one meeting to another, attending to details of existing and potential contracts, refusing to allow myself to dwell on what was happening during the night. Literally counting off the days until the following Tuesday evening when I pulled up outside the address Hanna had given me. It was an old, turn of the previous century hotel, grand in its day, and still obviously well maintained. The concierge took my car keys and the accompanying gratuity then showed me to a modernised and refurbished, but still beautiful late nineteenth century lift. 'Madame has the first floor.' he said as he closed the outer gate and it began to move slowly, but smoothly upwards. Hanna Ch. 01-05 I discovered later that Hanna didn't have just the first floor, she owned the entire building, as well as another, more modern apartment on the other side of town. I also learned that the area she used for the foundation's activities had been built in what had originally been the hotel's reception cum ballroom. Although great care had been taken in preserving the original decorative work, the place had been gutted of things like the old kitchen and toilets. That space had then been remodelled, providing her with a bed-room and private sitting room beyond the newly installed kitchen and bath-room facilities. Then, although it would have taken an architectural expert to notice it, the ball-room had also been divided, providing a good-sized lounge area and converting the rest of that space into one suitable for the foundation's unusual activities. But as I said, all that information only came later, all I saw that first evening was a tastefully furnished lounging area having the usual setting of comfortable chairs and side tables. I did notice that whilst the walls on three sides were decorated with several fine paintings and a few ornately carved mirrors, the longest wall was hung with no more than floor to ceiling velvet drapes. But from the moment the lift came to a halt I really had eyes for only Hanna. Although she was again dressed in a business suit that I was beginning to recognise were a series of variations on a theme, to me she looked simply beautiful. The crimson shirt beneath the jacket set off her pale complexion and dark hair, and the exquisitely cut suit did the same for the shape of the rest of her. I'm quite sure she could tell from the expression on my face the effect that seeing her had on me, but she just smiled as she came forward with her hand out-stretched in greeting. 'Good evening Mac, I'm very happy to see you. Come, sit down while I pour you a drink. Cognac, whisky, or something else?' 'Whisky is fine, with ice and water please.' I replied after clearing my suddenly very dry throat. 'Ice and water?' she said, raising eye-brows. 'Yes please, and don't waste a malt on me this evening, I want to keep my senses sharp.' I replied with a grin. She gave that deep-throated chuckle and turned to pour the drinks. I realised it was only the second time I'd had an opportunity to look at the back of her. The only other time had been when she made her way through the crowd at the bar during the concert, and that had been all too brief. Although the skirt wasn't particularly short, coming to just the tops of her knees, I could tell from what I could see of her legs that they were as superb as the rest of her body appeared to be. Long, with slim ankles, shapely calves, and from what I could tell, slenderly rounded thighs. The jacket was short enough to leave the full shape of her bottom in view and if the way the skirt fitted was any indication, those curves were full but tightly firm. In spite of the slight nervous apprehension I had about what was going to happen in the next hour or so I found myself being aroused by just the sight of her, felt my cock twitching at the thought of what lay beneath the skirt. Then she turned, came towards me with the drinks and indicated we should sit at a nearby coffee table on which there were two identical black document cases. 'To a mutually pleasing partnership.' she said raising her glass. 'I'll certainly drink to that Hanna.' I replied, doing likewise. 'Now, first to the business side of things.' she said, putting down her glass and reaching for the document cases. 'The way our security works is like this. When we have each looked at the other's documents they go in these cases, one for you and the other for us. As you see, they have somewhat unusual locks, they are electronic. If one is opened the alarm on the other is triggered, as it also is if the cases are moved too far apart.' 'Too far apart?' 'Yes, I don't profess to fully understand the technology but apparently they emit a signal, so long as each can receive the other they remain silent, but if you tried to take one out of Paris, the other would scream loudly. I think some wives might like to have such a thing fitted to their husband.' she said with a smile. 'So, we each get to know if the other has either tried to interfere with the lock, or move the case somewhere out of reach. All you must remember to do is to replace the battery every six months or so, a small flashing light lets you know when it is running low.' She turned the case over to show me where the battery compartment and signal light were, then added. 'If the battery dies it also signals the alarm on the other case. It's swan song.' she added with another friendly smile. 'So, is that OK?' I said that it was and she took a folder out of one of the cases. 'If you would like to give me whatever documentation you have brought with you, I'll just check it, you do the same with this, then we can lock them away and that's that.' she said as she handed me the folder. I reached down for the brief-case I had brought with me, took out a large envelope and handed it to her. We spent the next several minutes reading each other's documents, and I was frankly amazed at the content of hers. Amongst other things they showed how extremely large amounts of cash had been siphoned from various sources and converted into legitimate assets. That was when I discovered she actually owned the hotel we were in. The financial structure of the Foundation was also included, showing how several prominent men used its registration as a charity, as a vehicle for personal tax evasion. There was certainly more than enough information there to put both Hanna and three or four other men into court on serious charges. But then I had been equally honest, the papers Hanna was reading accurately documented how I had broken the law on two separate occasions in the past. It was no longer a practice I would tolerate in the business, but at the time I had been desperate to win those particular contracts. 'I had heard something of one of these Mac, but knew nothing of the other. But although they will do nicely as security and there is no reason for me to say this, I am very glad to see they both happened some years ago.' 'I can afford different ethics now Hanna.' 'Good, so you are satisfied with what I have given you?' 'More than. And I compliment you on your choice of investments. This must have been a fine hotel in its day and the way the city is going I should think it will make you a very large amount of money in five years or so.' 'That was my thought at the time. But as important as it is as an investment it would have been very much more expensive to provide the amenities we need for our somewhat unusual activities if we had to start from scratch in a new building. These old places had so much space in them, it enabled us to do things we just couldn't have in one of the new glass and concrete blocks.' 'You will also need this.' I said, passing over a smaller envelope that contained the cheques. 'You have four cheques there for varying amounts, but totalling the one hundred thousand you asked for. I wasn't sure about the annual donation you mentioned.' 'There's no need for that at this stage Mac. When you have been with us for a while, see how things go along, you can decide if you want to continue with us. If so then we can discuss that. To some extent it depends on what programmes we have running, but also how frequently you call on us. I must also tell you that if you want to leave at any time you are of course free to do so. We simply arrange to return each other's documents, and no questions are asked. You do of course forfeit your initial donation.' she added sweetly. 'Of course. Do members often leave?' 'There have been only two, apart from the occasional death of course.' 'So, what now?' 'Now comes the interesting part Mac, for me anyway. You get to tell me something of your fantasies, but first let me freshen your drink for you.' she said, reaching for my by then half empty glass. 'If you have no objection I would like to record our conversation for a while. You can trust me when I say that nobody but me will hear what you say, and once I have the detail in my mind the tape itself will be destroyed. Is that all right?' 'Of course, you already have more information about me than anyone else on the planet, also having something of what goes on in my mind will make little difference.' She reached down to open a door of the cabinet and turned a switch on some equipment I could see inside it. Then as she returned with our drinks she said. 'Good, now I'll just sit quietly while you talk. Rather than interrupt you I'll try to leave any questions I may have until you have finished.' I don't know how long I talked for, I didn't start by recounting the details I had suddenly recalled so recently but began by giving her a sketchy outline of what I remembered of my total sex-life, including my earlier marriage. Hanna sat listening, her face expressionless as I recounted early fumbling failures, the later successes, and the thoughts the memory of them inspired. I gave a better outline of my more recent love-life, my reaction to some of the many women I had been to bed with, and which of their various activities most excited me. Having dealt with all that I said that in my opinion what I was about to tell her might well be the key to what she was looking for, the key to my most basic fantasies. She shifted in her chair and took another sip from her glass before I began. And as she did that I noticed that her skirt, which had until then rested modestly knee-high, rode up a little, exposing just a hint of inner thigh. I found myself staring at that additional fraction of flesh, and had to use all my will-power to control the sudden craving I felt to see just a little more. When I was able to drag my eyes away I looked up to find Hanna watching me closely. 'Please go on Mac, you won't embarrass me you know.' she said reassuringly. 'Her voice brought me back to my senses and I took a large swig of scotch before starting on the story of what had happened that long ago winter's night. When I had finished I told her that it was only the search for what fantasies I had that had brought back the memory. That until just a few days before I had totally forgotten the event. But that in then looking back over my life I had realised that merely watching women had always proved to be extremely arousing. She said nothing for a while, the expression on her face thoughtful, then she said. 'Is there anything more you would like to add, any other thoughts that come to mind?' I said no, none that I could think of and she got up and went across to turn off the recording device. 'Another drink Mac, perhaps a little stronger this time?' 'That would be nice, thank you Hanna.' I replied and watched as she poured a large measure of malt whisky into a clean glass. Having handed it to me she sat down again, leaning forward in the chair as she spoke. 'Thank you for being so frank, it makes what I do much more satisfying when someone can be as open as you have been so early in the relationship. It sometimes takes quite a long time to get to the actual core of a person's fantasies. And let me say that it constantly amazes me just how powerfully early experiences shape a person's subsequent life. What you have told me has given me plenty to work with and I am sure we can provide you with what will be a satisfyingly creative performance. Now all we have to do is find a suitable time for you.' she added as she reached for a small notebook. After everything else that had happened a simple booking of an appointment seemed both cold-blooded and something of a let-down, but at the same time I realised it had to be so. For a moment I was tempted, strongly tempted to tell her that she could keep the money if she would simply come out to dinner with me. But something held me back and I just did as she asked, agreeing to a time for one evening the following week. Chapter 5 Initiation Yet another week dragged by, and getting through it proved to be even more difficult than the previous one had been. This time I not only had to cope with having Hanna's face intruding into both my day time and night time, but also the anticipation of whatever excitement she was planning for me. My dreams were no less frequent and no less powerful than the earlier ones, and were a similar mix of extreme arousal and hopeless frustration. However, sheer intensity of work saw me through until I once again pulled up outside the hotel and handed my keys to the ever present concierge. Again Hanna was waiting for me when I stepped out of the lift and again she was wearing a black business suit, that time coupled with a dark orange silk shirt, but rather than leading me to a seat, that evening she asked me to follow her through to the rooms beyond. 'I know you will appreciate the reason for me asking this of you Mac, it is something we ask of all members.' she said as she showed me into a spacious bath-room. 'Take your time, you will find a variety of toiletries, and a fresh robe is hanging here for you. When you are ready just slip it on and rejoin me in the lounge area.' I refrained from mentioning I had showered just before leaving my office, but did as she asked and took another. And as I stood beneath the hot spray I found the mental defences I had built to guard against thoughts of what Hanna might have in store for me crumbling. I was there for one purpose only, to be sexually stimulated in ways I never had been before. And although I had no idea of how she was going to achieve that or what was going to happen to me, just knowing it began to have its effect. Thoughts and images began to flash through my head like some out of control video on fast forward. Jumping from scene to disconnected scene in some madly random way. Images of Hanna of course, but mixed with those of many others. A young woman I had seen getting up on to a bus a day or two previously, wearing a short, too tight skirt that had given me a flash of thigh. Several of those of one of my previous women friends, who, perhaps guessing at my susceptibility, had made a habit of lying around with one or more items of underwear missing. Of the young woman from my early teen-age struggling with her dress. And many, many more. The images and the steadily rising sense of anticipation of what was to come of course had its predictable effect and by the time I stepped out of the shower as well as having a sense of nervous anticipation I also had the start of an erection. Doing my best to ignore it I dried myself, used one of the after shave lotions provided, then slipped on the bath-robe and went back down the hall-way. It's amazing what a difference lighting makes. When I re-entered the lounge area the place seemed totally different to where I had been just fifteen minutes earlier. There was some music playing softly in the back-ground and the brightness of the light coming from the overhead chandeliers had been replaced by the softer, more indirect light from a series of small table lamps. What had been an elegant, if somewhat characterless place had become what it was designed to be, an ante-room for someone of taste and refinement. Hanna had been sitting, but rose as I entered. 'I trust that washed away some of the cares of the day Mac. I have taken the liberty of pouring you a drink.' she added, handing me a glass of malt whisky. 'For now this room is yours, I will be elsewhere. As this is our first presentation for you I have kept this one relatively simple, nothing too extreme. However, once we get to know each other better we can try different approaches. Now just remember that you are here alone, what you see is presented for your personal pleasure and enjoyment; feel no guilt, no shame, just enjoy. But, although you may be strongly tempted, please don't touch yourself, be patient, it will be worth it.' Then she rested her hand on my arm, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and left me standing there. The music faded and what lights there were slowly dimmed until I was standing in virtual darkness, but only for a moment, because even before my eyes began to adjust I noticed a chink of light suddenly showing from between the curtains covering the far wall of the room. I turned as a section of the velvet curtains drew apart and found myself looking at one of the most cunningly contrived stagings I had ever seen. Behind the curtain was what looked like a wall, with a window set at eye level and fringed by branches. I moved closer, stood in front of it and looked through into a small room, obviously a bed-room. And in it, standing with her back to me, was a woman with long, darkly waving hair. I was immediately taken back to my early teens, it was a winter's evening and I was wedged in the fork of a tree, sneaking a look through the young woman's window. Even as the memory flooded back the woman bent to grasp the hem of her skirt and began lifting it, but doing it far more slowly than the other had all those years ago. Giving me plenty of time to see the slowly increasing amount of leg, and plenty of time to react to what I was seeing. And react I did, my heart beating faster as blood immediately surged through my veins, much of it apparently heading straight to my groin. I watched as the skirt rose higher, exposing the smoothly rounded flesh of her thighs, then the sheer black panties that barely covered the firm globes of her arse. She paused, as though giving me time to savour the view she was giving me, giving me time to imagine what other delights the skimpy panties covered. And as I stood there, running my tongue over suddenly bone dry lips, I realised that it wasn't only the woman's skirt that had been rising, so had my already partially aroused cock. Although I had been expecting something erotic the speed of my reaction still amazed me. I was after all no longer that thirteen year old boy who was just reaching puberty, but my response had been just as fast and as powerful as his had been that long ago evening. And the strength of that response only increased when the woman began lifting the hem of her dress higher, exposing her back, and the slash of her black bra strap. But of course unlike the young boy, I could anticipate what would happen next, and that only sent even more blood surging into the swiftly stiffening length I could feel brushing against the bath-robe. I wasn't disappointed, once she had the dress up level with her shoulders she began struggling with it, moving about as she tried to free her hair from the zip, and slowly, almost imperceptibly turning towards me. Her movement gradually brought her breasts into profile, they were large and full, and as she turned a little more I saw how much flesh was pushing up out of the restraining cups. She paused for a few moments and I felt the palms of my hands getting damp and the fingers tingling as I thought of the pleasures I would get if I could fondle and squeeze that flesh. Then her struggle began turning her again and a few seconds later I saw what I had been really waiting for. The bulge made by her pubis was extraordinarily large, and what made the sight even more stimulating was the fact that there were even a few stray hairs peeping out from under the edge of the black nylon. But unlike the woman from my youth this one didn't manage to free her hair, she continued struggling with the dress, giving me as much time as I wanted to continue staring at her. And stare I did, my eyes moving up and down the delights she was offering them, the overly full breasts, the sensuously rounded curves of her stomach, waist and hips, the slender lines of her thighs. But in spite of all that erotic beauty, almost as though it held some hypnotic force over me, most of the time I stared straight ahead, at the point where those thighs met. Hanna Ch. 01-05 Her pubic mound was so large and fat that it stretched the sheer nylon tight, and through it I could not only see the dark shadow of the mass of curly hair, but also the start of the fleshy slit below it. I stared and stared, hoping, longing for the woman to let me see just a little more. Almost praying that she would drop her hands, push her panties further down, and let me see what still remained hidden. But of course she didn't and it was only when the curtains began to close that I truly realised just how aroused the performance had made me. I could feel my heart beating much faster and stronger than usual, feel the contrast between the dryness in my mouth and the beads of perspiration on my forehead, and when I glanced down I saw that my rising cock had pushed aside the folds of the robe and was already rearing semi-vertically in front of me. But I had little time to consider either how quickly, or how powerfully I had been affected by what I had seen because as the curtains closed, another, adjacent pair began to slowly draw apart. I moved along to stand in front of another stage, again set-up to create the illusion of looking through a window. Once again I was looking into a bed-room, but one that very obviously differed from the other, for one thing it was more brightly lit, and it also had narrow but full length mirrors in each of the two back corners. Then before I had time to notice anything else another woman came into the room, perhaps younger, certainly more slimly built than the first. She too had long dark hair, but unlike the other her skin was white, milky white, and as she was much more provocatively dressed than the first woman had been there was much more of it already on show. All she was wearing was a classically seductive outfit; black bra and panties, black nylon stockings held up by a matching suspender belt, and high, very high-heeled shoes. And although I must have seen dozens of photographs of girls dressed that way, perhaps because I was already so aroused, she had an immediate and powerful effect on me. But it wasn't just what she was wearing that stirred me, as she crossed the room I watched her hands as they moved slowly up and down over her body. Those movements, plus the dreamy expression on her face, gave the impression she was remembering, or perhaps anticipating a lover's touch. Then when she reached the opposite side of the room she reached down and turned a knob, and as the air was suddenly filled with soft music she began to move in time with it. Although her movements had all the grace and poise of a trained dancer, they also had the seductive skill of a professional strip-tease artist, and I found the way she used her hands particularly mesmerising. So as she continued I found myself watching them closely, the way they sometimes gently cupped and fondled her breasts, sometimes just slowly, caressingly moved up and down over her tautly lithe form. What made the scene even more effective was the fact that as well as the girl, there were the two reflections of her for me to watch. No matter what she was doing I could see her from all angles, see where her hands were and exactly what they were doing. And of course I couldn't help imagining it was my hands running over the various parts of her body. Imagine it was mine that hefted the soft weight of her breasts, squeezed the rounded firmness of her buttocks, felt the sheerness of her stockings then the silky warmth of her thighs. So of course the combination of what I was seeing and what was going on inside my head had a perfectly predictable result. By then I was not only feeling a much stronger pulsing throb coming from my dramatically over-inflated cock, but also a steadily growing ache in my groin, and the longer I stood watching the more will-power it took to do as Hanna had instructed, to not touch myself. She continued dancing for quite some time, her movements gradually becoming raunchier, more suggestive, clearly implying that just like mine, her own sexual needs were rising strongly. Then she crossed the room, pulled a stool out from beneath her dressing table, then slowly slid her panties down and tossed them to one side. She had a truly beautiful arse, firmly rounded globes of pure white flesh, the deep valley between them temptingly inviting, promising thrills of exquisite tightness. But I was given only a few moments to enjoy looking at them before she moved around to sit on the stool, and it was only then that I realised just how cunningly the mirrors had been installed. Although she was facing away from me, the glass was angled so that I had a perfectly clear view of her reflection, and the first thing I saw as she spread her legs apart was that like some pre-pubescent girl, her pubic area was completely hairless. The milky whiteness of her skin and total lack of hair around them made the pink, softly glistening folds of her pussy-lips look even more delectable, and I was aware that while I stared my tongue was trailing back and forth over my own. Then while I continued looking at what nestled between her thighs she ratcheted-up the pressure inside me by reaching around behind herself, unclipping the bra and tossing it down beside her discarded panties. Her breasts, like her buttocks, were small but taut and perfectly shaped, their dark pink nipples already jutting prominently. The shoes, stockings and suspender belt only made her otherwise naked body even more desirable and I watched with growing intensity as she began stroking her breasts and gently squeezing her nipples. Again I wished it was my hands, not hers that were doing the caressing, and then when they slipped down between her legs, I wished I was kneeling there, that it was my tongue rather than her fingers that was stroking, then probing deep into the moist warmth of her pussy. What she was doing, and the thoughts and feelings they prompted only made the pulse beating deep inside me even more powerful. And, without taking my eyes from the girl I could tell from the sensations I was getting that by then my cock was both massively engorged, and jerking about quite uncontrollably. But equally strong was the steadily increasing ache in my balls as the volume of accumulating semen continued to grow. By then the urge to reduce all that tension and pressure was almost overwhelming, I knew that like the boy in the tree, just a few swift strokes of my hand would bring the relief I was by then so desperately craving. But as I guessed Hanna still had something more in store for me, I somehow managed to resist the urge, and stood staring at the girl as she worked herself closer and closer to her own orgasm. Then, just as she was about to reach it, the curtains began to slowly close, and a third pair opened. But that time there was no need for me to move, the couple performing were angled across the stage in a way that enabled me to immediately see every detail. She was down on hands and knees, the man entering her from behind, and from the sheen of perspiration on his face and body he had already been fucking the girl for some time. I had a clear view of his cock as it steadily pistoned in and out of her pussy and could tell from the way it glistened with her juices just how wet she was. But in spite of that, from the amount of effort he was having to use I knew she was still a tight, very tight fit. That thought was strengthened by the way his thigh and buttock muscles and the woman's arm and shoulders flexed and tensed each time he drove forward. And was further confirmed by his low grunting sounds and the woman's muffled gasps that accompanied each vigorous thrust. Even so he seemed inexhaustible, and as I continued watching I found I had two completely different sets of experiences to process. The first was the more primal, the sheer excitement of being able to watch the two of them fucking. I'd had that experience, and felt that excitement a few times in my life, but the circumstance of the performance had always left most of the action to my imagination. The couples had either still been partially clothed, or were covered by sheets or blankets. It was only in hard core videos that one got to see the real detail, and that wasn't anywhere near as effective as seeing the real thing. And although I knew this time was just as contrived, it was a thousand times closer to reality, and so the action that much more arousing. At the same time I was trying to imagine what the man was feeling. Trying to feel the intensity of pleasure he was experiencing each time he drove back and forth into that obviously slickly tight pussy. Not for the first time I cursed the evolutionary path that had given us selective amnesia, deprived us of the ability to recall physical pleasure. Although our memories can store the minutest detail of sight, sound and smell it has never acquired, or if it at some time had, has not retained the capacity to store the memory of physical sensations. So, although I desperately wanted to feel exactly what the man was feeling, I couldn't even call-up from my memories something that would have served the purpose. But then, defying both science and logic I did, I felt them! Those very same sensations were coursing up through me, as though it was my cock, not his that was fucking the woman. It took a moment to realise that simply wasn't possible, then when I glanced down I understood why I was feeling those things. The first girl, the one doubling for the woman from my early teens, was kneeling at my feet, she was smiling up at me, knowingly, and it was her hand that was giving me those sensations. The memory of that long ago evening flooded back. Although I couldn't recall the actual thrills I had felt, I knew how powerfully I had climaxed, remembered the way the woman had smiled as she watched the semen spurting from me. And as my eyes flicked up and down, from the skilful way the girl at my feet was using her hand, to the increasingly energetic fucking the man was giving the one on the stage, I felt the bottled-up semen inside me finally reaching boiling point. I heard myself give a muffled gasp, felt my body tensing, arching, thrusting my pelvis forward. Then, just as the first seething load seared up through me, I felt the girl's lips slip down over my bulging cock-head, then heard myself grunting loudly at the unbelievably powerful thrills she gave me as she sucked and swallowed each of those that followed. And given the force and volume of the initial eruption they continued coming for much longer than I would have expected. But neither the number nor their duration seemed to bother the girl who was so avidly accepting them. In fact from the happy gurgling sound she made as she continued pumping, sucking and gulping, I got the impression she was enjoying my climax almost as much as I was. Only when she was sure she had taken every last drop, she reached up with her other, fine cloth covered hand and gently cleaned away all traces of what she had done, then slipped away, leaving me standing there, feeling both physically and emotionally drained. TO BE CONTINUED ...