4 comments/ 46080 views/ 4 favorites Rooming with Hannah By: Alexanderom The following is a true account of my time subletting a room from a very nice couple. It does have a slow build-up and may not really be suitable for a quick one-handed read, so to speak. * After six years in the Marine Corps I was out and very exited about being a free man again, and home, instead of in the sweltering heat of Baghdad. After the relentless pace of life as a grunt, I found civilian life a welcome change. I had managed to complete my first two years of college during my time in the Marines, so I would only be here for my last two before moving on to graduate school. My financial obligations were light, as my G.I. Bill paid for my tuition, but I opted to try and sublet a room to live more frugally and avoid dipping into my savings. Also, after living in such close quarters with so many good friends for so long, living alone in an apartment seemed too foreign. During my first week in town, I stayed with a Corps buddy and kept a close watch on the postings for rooms, finally finding one that seemed promising. It advertised a room for rent with a young married couple with a three-year-old child and warned that 'freaks, layabouts, party boys, smokers, druggies and lunatics' need not apply. Sounded like just my type of people, so I called them and scheduled a meeting for the next day. I arrived at their home at just a bit after eleven in the morning and saw that it was an older, Victorian styled home common to the area and constructed in the earlier part of the twentieth century. Though a bit dilapidated and not in the best neighborhood, I thought that it certainly had character. Parking my Jeep on the curb, I walked through the gate and into the nicely maintained yard. I noticed the smell of orange blossoms in the hot summer air and could see a few children's toys on the large porch. Hoping that this would pan out, I put on my most friendly expression and rang the bell. I had felt no need to dress to impress and other than my uniform I owned no dress clothing of any kind. As a result, I was in my most comfortable khaki shorts, a black Marine Corps t-shirt bearing the logo of my old unit and my favorite pair of Japanese 'zori' flip-flops. My black hair at the time was no longer quite "high and tight", but still marked me as military. Standing on the porch, I could feel a few beads of sweat from the hot, dry California air running down the back of my shirt and wondered absently if I should get more sunscreen. I've got the swarthy skin that's common to Sicilians, but thanks to the blazing sun of Iraq, I was still quite tan. When the door opened up, I was pleased to see a friendly looking man who appeared a few years older than myself. He was also a bit taller and heavier, though by no means overweight. He looked quite strong, actually. His brown hair was much longer than my own and the style, when combined with his clothes, gave him sort of a 'hepcat' look. We shook hands and he introduced himself as Brian, the man I had spoken to on the telephone. Though he was several years out of uniform, I could immediately peg him as a military man, and he confirmed this when we shook hands and I saw the Marine Corps tattoo on his right forearm that matched my own. I immediately approved. Most people get tattoos to be unique, but Marines get them to be the same. He asked if I was prior Corps and I explained with a grin that I had been recently reintroduced into the wild, so to speak. The living room was large and decorated in an eclectic blend of Georgian and Mexican furniture. There was a panel of Mexican masks that I recognized from Dia De Los Muertos arranged on the wall over the fireplace, and a small Catholic altar on a table with three spindly legs in the corner held a red novena candle burning next to a statue of the Virgin Mary. There was a decided Latin American flair to the house, and I wondered if his wife was from South of the border. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a large wooden coffee table that sat low in front of an old divan styled sofa that proved to be far more comfortable than it looked. We sat down on it and while we waited for his wife, Hannah, to put their son down for his nap we made small talk about the units we served with and discovered that we were both stationed at Twenty-nine Palms with 'the fleet'. He explained that he worked as a fireman and had a rotating schedule of two 24-hour days per week and that he would be doing a lot of overtime during fire season. He also informed me that he and Hannah had been married almost six years and had a three-year-old son. Brian was at the time thirty-three and Hannah had just turned twenty-nine, not too much older than I was. The one concern that Brian did express was that a young boy might bother me, and I assured him (quite truthfully) that he would not. Brian and I got on well and I felt fairly confident that I would get the room at this point. Hannah joined us in the living room wearing a flowery, loose skirt and a sleeveless peasant blouse. Brian introduced us and I looked her over. I found her to be attractive, but not beautiful. A definite girl next door who was on the more attractive side of plain. She had very thick chestnut hair pulled into pigtails and then braided. I thought it made her look rather like a German milkmaid, but it was cute nonetheless. Her eyes were a very nice shade of hazel, and her expression was open and friendly. We exchanged pleasantries and she and Brian led me to the room that was to be mine, should I decide to take it. As she led the way I saw that her body was curvy and lush, with a decidedly hourglass shape to it and her legs looked strong and toned. The room was kind of bijou, but since I owned almost nothing, I didn't really need a lot of space. It had two small closets that would hold all of my clothes, but the big selling point was a small room that connected to it making the rough shape of an 'L' and giving me two rooms for the price of one. Although the second room was small, it looked as though it would fit my futon and leave enough space to walk in and move around to make my bed. It was about the size of our 'hurricane closet' in my family's home in Charleston, South Carolina, but it would do nicely for an ad hoc bedroom. Brian informed me that the room was three hundred a month, which seemed more than fair, since I would pay no utilities and have full kitchen access, though I would have to share a bathroom. They made a formal offer for the room, and I accepted by shaking hands with Brian and writing him a check for the first and last month's rent. He gave me my key and said that I could move in the following day after they gave it a good cleaning, though it looked fine to me as it was. I arrived bright and early the next morning to unpack my things and get settled, which took about three hours. While I was in the process of doing so, Hannah knocked on the door and peeked in, holding up a beer for me. "Do you need any help?" she asked with a smile. I shook my head, but gladly accepted the beer. The house was old and had no air conditioning, and was actually uncomfortably hot. "Not especially, but you're welcome to stay and chat if you like." She accepted and sat down on the captain's chair that I kept for my computer in the larger of the two rooms. She looked over the room, which was Spartan to say the least, and eyed the shadow box full of my Marine Corps memorabilia and then spoke, her voice clear and pleasant. "So how long were you in the Marines?" "Six years," I responded as I sat down on the floor to take a break from unpacking. I took a sip of the cold beer and it was a welcome bit of relief from the heat. She gave me a look that prompted me to continue talking about myself, so I elaborated. "I enlisted when I was eighteen because I thought it would make a man out of me and give me some discipline and direction." It felt like a pretty standard, unimaginative answer, but it was true. "And then you went to war?" She asked, but gave no hint with her tone of voice whether or not she approved of it. I nodded in response, but said nothing because I didn't want to discuss my experiences there. Although I returned home somewhat edgy, I wasn't traumatized, like my father was when he returned home from his own war. After finishing the beer she brought for me, I resumed unpacking and she lent a hand, hanging up my clothes for me and talking about her own life. She was a graduate student in Spanish at the same University that I attended, and had a passion for all things Mexican. She had a particular fascination with the Oaxaca region that I didn't understand, as I couldn't tell one region from another and spoke very little Spanish. I would be taking a course this term, though, and told her as much. While I listened to her, I got the distinct impression that we were really very different people and I began to wonder if we could talk about anything of substance without arguing. She was something of a hippy-dippy and certainly a staunch liberal, while I considered myself a conservative. She informed me that when she was younger she had lived in a hippy commune and that her name there was "Moon-Dove". Indeed. Over the next few weeks, she and I seemed to develop a tacit understanding that we would talk of nothing political that would incite an argument, since neither of us would sway an inch concerning beliefs, which usually were diametrically opposed. Brian, when he was home, was a wonderful roommate, who shared my affinity for running, Guinness Stout, working out and video games. We got along well and seldom talked of the Corps, except when we had an anecdote that was too funny not to share. We did, however, compare the spots we'd visited that had the best whores and bar-girls in the Pacific. He favored Okinawa, while I was a fan of the Philippines. We even set up a pretty nice gym by combining our weight sets in the back yard. We'd work out there whenever we were both home and Hannah would often watch us through the window. If Brian happened to be home on the weekend, the three of us would go out and hit the various bars and clubs in the area, particularly the ones with "80's Night" or similar themes. We began to become very friendly, and I was happy to have someone to go out with. During our trips to the bars, I never brought anyone home with me and decided to keep the sanctity of our triumvirate intact. It wasn't that I lacked the opportunity; I just felt that it would be tacky to take a woman to their home. A little over two months after moving in, Brian was doing two days on consecutively and their son was with his grandparents, Hannah and I were alone in the house. Not once did I consider that this might present a problem. She never acted in any way improper or otherwise gave the impression that she had any interest in adultery, which was fine by me. I got back from class and was finishing my workout when she walked outside and asked if I had plans that night. I replied that I didn't, and she asked if I'd like to go out for a beer because Brian and their son were gone. We made plans to leave that evening and she went to do whatever it is women do when no one else is around and I returned to my studies, as I had a bitch of a Spanish test the following day. That evening at around nine, she knocked on my door and asked if I was ready to leave, so I shut my books, pulled on my cowboy boots, tossed on a 'nice' shirt and went out to meet her. She looked really nice, and it rather threw me for a minute. She normally went out looking nice, usually in some kind of 40's or 50's retro dress, but this particular night she had on a little black dress that looked to be painted on. It emphasized her heavy bust line and narrow waist. I could also just see a faint line under her dress where she must have been wearing garters, which I love. Her hair was pulled up into ringlets and she had on a black lace choker that made her look twenty degrees hotter. I must have had a stupefied look on my face, because she looked self-conscious and turned slightly away from me. "Why are you looking at me like that, is it the dress? It's new." She asked, wincing as if I was going to say something terrible to her. I got myself under control and smiled as reassuringly as I could. So that's where she'd been while I was studying. "You look fucking hot. There's nothing wrong with you." She smiled brightly, flashing me with her very straight teeth and I found myself wondering what kind of panties she was wearing. We left then and went to our usual pub for beers. When we got there, we sat in our regular booth and each ordered our normal drinks: red wine for her and a Guinness for me. During the two hours we were there, she might have been sitting just a little closer than normal and making more eye contact than normal, but then again it was loud in there and we had to sit close to hear one another. After we had each finished a few drinks, she suggested that we go to a dance club that she had heard about and wanted to try. I have never been a good dancer and always feel like Elaine from Seinfeld whenever I try, so I initially balked, saying that we should wait for Brian. Hannah fixed me with her hazel eyes, cocked her head to one side and said 'please' in a little girl voice that, frankly, would have made me go along with just about anything right then. Neither of us was close to being drunk, so we felt all right to drive my Jeep instead of taking a cab. The club was about fifteen minutes away and during the ride, Hannah asked if I would mind sticking kind of close to her tonight so that she didn't have to worry about other men hitting on her. I told her that I would be happy to act as her escort, and still no alarm bells went off in my head. The club we arrived at, Gotham, was a theme bar with a bizarre mixture of Techno and Country. A wall separated the two dance floors, but it was not uncommon to see folks in Wranglers and boots (my kind of people) on the techno side. Similarly, one could occasionally see some young girl or guy X'd out of their mind on the country side, waving those glow sticks around and trying to do the Cowboy Cha-Cha. Only in California, I suppose. I escorted her in, her arm linked through mine, and we waded through the throngs of scantily clad women and smartly dressed men looking to pick them up. The club boasted, on its techno side, five bars and I asked her if she'd like anything to drink. She shook her head, said something that I was unable to hear thanks to the pulsating music, and dragged me onto the dance floor, where we were swallowed by the writhing masses. She took my hand and pulled me toward the center of the floor, where we could get lost among the bodies, but this also had the effect of forcing our bodies close together due to the lack of space. This did not bother me in the least, however, because as I have said, I do not like to dance and the less room I had in which to attempt it, the better I felt about it. I also knew that Hannah hated country music as much as I loved it, so we wouldn't be spending much time on the other side of the club. Once we were in the right spot, Hannah immediately began to move with the music and did so with much more sensuousness than I would have given her credit for knowing her hippy roots. She found the beat immediately, but I had to stand there for a moment and search for it while watching out for errant elbows and hands from the nearby dancers. She must have taken my moment of inactivity for uncertainty, because she wrapped her arms around my hips and pulled me close to her. Her hands roamed over my back and her body moved sinuously against my own. When I placed the palm of my hand on her lower back, I felt rather than heard her give a moan or a hum, and looked down at her wondering if something was wrong. As I looked down, she was looking up at me with those large, sultry hazel eyes and smiling seductively. She rubbed her body against me and I could feel its soft curves against the hard musculature of my own. My cock started to stiffen, which I was certain she could feel and I backed away just a bit to prevent her from noticing. Apparently, though, she knew full well what the problem was. She raised her eyebrows at me, smiled at my embarrassment and pulled me back to her. With her moving against me and my incredibly stiff cock, the extremely loud, throbbing music and flashing lights combined with the rich scent of her skin, sweat and perfume I was becoming a little dizzy. I wanted very much to grab her and kiss those full lips, but I did not and I was relatively sure she'd hit me for trying. Moreover, I felt guilty for even considering it. The DJ put on a song I knew and liked very much, "Oh Fortuna". It is Apotheosis' take on Carmina Burana. I squeezed her hip, where my hand was resting and smiled, pleased that I finally recognized one of the songs. Apparently everyone else in there knew the song as well, because a furious scream rose up from nearly everyone in there and hands flew into the air with glee. As if on cue, the lights began to flash and flicker in time with the music and the club seemed to be infused with frenetic energy that was almost primal in nature. Hannah began a more active exploration of my body with her hands, running them over my shoulders, stomach and chest, but never below my hips. I'm not sure how long we danced like that, the pace and stimuli on the floor made it hard to tell, which I suppose is one of the things most people like about it. After enough time had elapsed that I began to get thirsty I leaned in close to her ear and asked if she'd like to go get a drink. She nodded and followed me off the floor, which seemed to be more crowded than ever and it took us several minutes to get through the teeming throng of dancers and off the floor, where the crowd thinned. I left her near a column and went to get a couple of tequila shots for us. I make it a rule never to get drunk in public, so this would be the end of my drinking for the evening. When I returned with the two double-shots and limes, I handed one to her just in time to hear the dread cry, "Last call for alcohol". We swallowed the shots and then left the club, heading for home. Once we exited the club and were back in the warm summer evening, our interaction went back to what I was used to and I wrote off all of the dancing as just that, nothing more. She and I made small talk during the drive home, and generally talked about what a great time we'd had. We entered the house, which was dark except for the burning red novena candle in the far corner, which reduced our visibility to little or none. I followed Hannah into the house and she left the lights off, moving into the den where a proper couch was set against the wall in front of an entertainment center. I followed. "Hey, let's watch cartoons." Hannah whispered. I could hear the excitement in her voice, so I acquiesced and sat down on the couch next to her and while she fumbled for the remote, I tossed my boots and socks into the darkened corner. The screen blinked to life and the room was brightened as the television came to life and she flipped to the Cartoon Network. We sat on opposite sides of the couch and she turned and rested her feet in my lap, crossing her ankles. As we watched, I absently began to massage her feet. I don't have a foot fetish; far from it, in fact, but I find that women generally enjoy a good foot rub after a bit of dancing. She gave a contented sigh and sank deeper into the cushions of the sofa. We watched a full episode of Looney Tunes like this, and said nothing. At the end of the episode I gently put her feet down and stood up, intent on taking my leave for the night. She stood up with me, but in doing so ended up quite close. I opened my mouth to speak, but she 'shushed' me with one of her soft fingers on my lips. Rooming with Hannah We stood there like that for a moment, she and I. She looking up at me with her hazel eyes shining in the television light and I looking down at her, wondering what the hell what about to happen and whether it was as bad as I thought it was—and it was. Continuing would have been so wrong on so many levels, but as she placed her hands softly on the muscles under my shirt and leaned over to place a series of soft, lingering kisses on the side of my throat, morality abruptly vanished and I became a willing participant. My hands found their way to her ass and I took a step closer, bringing our bodies into contact with one another, as they had been at the club. I hadn't noticed her perfume in the club, or in my jeep, but faint traces of it lingered, along with the heady scent of her body as I brought her face up to mine to kiss her. Her hands clutched my ribs and roamed over my back and buttocks as kissed deeply, our tongues dancing in each other's mouths and our breath mingling. We stood that way for several minutes, pressing our bodies together, exploring with our hands and getting more and more aroused. I could feel her breasts pressing against me and I had to touch them, so I moved back slightly and cupped them with my hands. I squeezed and massaged them, but I could not really feel them as well as I would have liked through the bra she was wearing. When I began to consider taking it off of her under her dress, she pulled away from me and looked me in the eyes, our breath quick in our chests. "I'll be right back." she said to me, smiling slyly. Wondering where she could be going, then thinking that it was maybe to undress for me, I simply nodded stupidly, awash in conflicting emotions. Hannah then slid down to her knees in front of me and I suddenly understood. I could feel her unbuckling my belt and as my hands cupped her shoulders and toyed with her hair. Her hands were warm against my skin as she slid her hands around my waist and into the back of my boxer shorts, hooking the band with her thumbs and pulling them and my pants down to my knees. She slid her hands down my legs, slipping my pants off and tossing them across the room. She took a long look at me from her knees, and gave me a big, evil, wanton smile that made my stomach tighten with anticipation. She then parted her lips slightly and slowly bent down to my cock, staring me in the eyes, and very slowly slid her small pink tongue out of her mouth and licked the underside of the head. There was a large drop of precum on the tip, which she licked off with her tongue, her bottom lip pulled against my cock and I could see her breath coming quickly as she grasped my erect cock. Her hands were quite small, but her touch was confident and self-assured, which made me want her even more. I could hear her muttering in Spanish beneath her breath, which must have turned her on as much as it did for me. My Spanish isn't the greatest, but when I heard her say the word "chuparte", I had a pretty good idea where this was all going. I'm perceptive like that, I suppose. As she slowly stroked my cock, she looked up at me with a lust in her eyes that I could see clearly in the glare of the television. I'm circumcised, but it's quite loose so I have almost as much play in the foreskin as I would if I were not cut. She made the most of this and it was obvious that she had some experience with hand jobs. She'd mentioned before how much she loved fellatio, but I was excited to experience her technique firsthand. She did not disappoint. As I stood there, she ran her hands up and down the muscles of my thighs and calves, then placed her hand down under me and cupped my balls, rolling them gently in her hand. She then leaned in and took one of my balls in her mouth and rolled her tongue under it while the heat of her mouth surrounded it, sucking gently. I groaned and clutched her shoulders as she rolled it around in her mouth, moving her tongue all around it, bathing it thoroughly. When the muscles in my ass started to twitch with pleasure, she pulled her mouth away, and then repeated the same on the other. Her dark hair fell down around face, obscuring my view as she finally took my cock in her mouth. She turned her head to the side slightly and I could see the black choker around her throat, the dark lace a strong contrast to her white skin. Very slowly, she let my entire cock slide into her mouth. She kept her eyes locked to mine as every inch disappeared from view. Once she had the whole cock in, she let the tip of her tongue slip out and tickle my balls, which was made possible by the fact that I'm only of average size. After a moment of this, her hands on my thighs and her mouth hot on my cock, she began to suck gently keeping me in her mouth, holding me right there for a few seconds. I moaned, resisting the urge to thrust my hips toward her, which would certainly bring the evening to a screeching halt. As she started to slowly pull her head back, she began to ripple her tongue on the underside of my cock. When she reached the head, she slowly let it slip between her lips, catching it with her tongue and then sliding it back all the way into her mouth. She repeated this move a few times, and it drove me crazy the way she slowly, deliberately, almost adoringly made love to my cock. She slid me into and out of her mouth, seeming to leave as much saliva behind as possible. While she did this, she played with my balls with one of her hands and slid the other under my ass to guide my cock into her mouth. Any guilt I may have felt had by this point completely vanished. After my cock was nice and wet, she wrapped her hand around it and increased the suction slightly with her mouth, creating something of a seal between her hand and mouth. Then she began to move more quickly up and down the shaft. I was in a state of sheer bliss, completely unaware of my surroundings, of the television's cartoon noises, of everything except the exquisite feeling of her working me over. Gradually, she began to increase the speed of the movement of her hand and mouth and I could feel myself slip into the rhythm that would eventually lead to my orgasm. Whether it was from highly developed skill or watching my reaction, she quickly found the right pace and amount of suction and pressure. I could tell that she was going straight in for the kill, no teasing or stopping at the last minute. When she could tell that I was ready to come she increased her speed and suction and tightened her grip a little more. I could feel her other hand cupping and lightly squeezing my balls and then snake between my legs. I was too wrapped up with the feelings coming from my cock to pay much attention to it, and as far as I was concerned, anything she wanted to do at this point was fine with me. When I felt her slide a very slippery finger into my ass, I stiffened and stood up on my toes for a moment. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not, but she removed her hand from my cock, grabbed my ass and pulled me toward her hungrily—all the while giving me a dose of fantastic suction. Well, I thought, this is certainly a new experience. I relaxed and looked down at her again and her eyes conveyed that she was enjoying this almost as much as I was. I had never had a woman give me a blowjob with such enthusiasm, ever. Not even on the many occasions I had paid for it. Hannah kept her eyes on me the entire time, and when I began to moan and tense my legs in earnest, trying to come, she nodded to me with her mouth around the head of my cock. The hand that wasn't playing with my ass once again wrapped around the shaft of my cock and as I began to come, I grabbed her shoulders perhaps more roughly than I had intended. If I hurt her, though, she gave no sign of it, merely moaned onto my cock as I filled her mouth. I could feel her swallowing as she gradually slowed down the motion of her hand and relaxed the pressure of her mouth. Once I had finished my orgasm, she pulled her hand from my ass and removed her hand from my cock, still holding me in her mouth. Once I had settled down and stopped twitching, she let me slide out, cleaning any remaining cum and all of the saliva off with her lips and tongue. She had just given me the best blowjob I had ever imagined, and I felt a profound sense of gratitude. As my cock left her mouth, she looked up at me, happy and proud and we smiled at each other. I reached down and helped her to stand. Once she was standing, I pulled her in close with the intention of embracing her and thanking her profusely, but she was having none of it. She wrapped her body around mine and kissed me deeply. Normally I would never kiss a woman after I had come in her mouth, but she didn't give me any choice. As we kissed I tasted my cum, warm and salty on her lips and in her mouth, but it really didn't bother me as much as I would have expected. Rather it reminded me of the tremendous pleasure that she had given me. And like any man, I wanted more of it and if I had to taste a little of my own to get some more of her, so be it. We kissed for several minutes and I knew that after a bit I would be able to get hard again. Once I knew this, I began to give serious thought to stripping her down and fucking her there on the floor. Hannah, though, had other ideas. She pulled away from me, leaving me aching for more of her and looked me in the eyes again. After a moment of intense eye contact and squeezing my ribs with her hands, she spoke to me in a lusty whisper. "Come on, mangito, take me to bed and fuck me." I didn't know what the hell "mangito" meant, but I wasn't about to argue. I took her hand and after picking up my clothes, led her to my room. I followed her in and fumbled for the light switch, but she said that she'd prefer candles. Much to my chagrin, I told her I didn't have any. In a fit of ninja-fast thinking and hoping to keep her happy, I reached over and clicked on the small Japanese style paper-sided nightstand lamps. The light bulb inside of it was blue, which cast the room into a bizarre array of shadows added a surreal feeling to the situation. In a further attempt to create 'mood', I turned on my CD player and Portishead begun to sing "Cowboys". The song seemed to fit, and I had the distinct impression that I would never again hear it and not think of sex. I never have. I was already bottomless, so I pulled off my shirt and stood before her, naked except for the dog tags that I never took off. Hannah stood across from me, a little farther than arm's length and eyed me with a lascivious smile on her lips. The way she stood there, fully dressed, leering at me as if I were a plaything made me feel rather like a piece of meat. Thankfully, though, I have always enjoyed that feeling. As her smile widened, Hannah canted her head to one side and asked me if I wanted her to take her dress off. I crossed my arms across my chest, nodded and gave a little jerk of my chin indicating that she should toss it in the same corner that I had shied my jeans and boots into. In a brusque, matter of fact motion, she peeled the clingy black dress from the curves of her body and laid it out carefully across my computer chair. We regarded one another for a moment, our eyes exploring the curves and slopes and unique characteristics that make each body a unique work of art. She had had ample opportunity to study my body that, although strong and well proportioned, was never bound for any Calvin Klein ads. I on the other hand, had never had the opportunity to carefully scrutinize hers, which I am happy to say did not disappoint. Like my own, hers was not perfect, and it was apparent by the wideness of her hips and the slight sag to her ample bosom that she was a mother, but that only served to make her more appealing. It was almost as if it accentuated her femininity, and gave it a ripe completeness that the younger women I was used to lacked. I will also admit that I find beauty in the imperfections of a person. Perfection is boring, not to mention vaguely fascist. As a result, the softness of her belly and the contrast of the swell of her hips and the slimness of her waist summoned all available blood into my groin. I could also smell her scent, heavy and thick on the air. Hannah was, as I suspected, wearing a garter belt. At the time I thought it was because she had dressed up for me. I was to find out later that she almost always wore them because they were 'retro'. On that night, however, seeing her in lingerie inflamed my desire and she became Aphrodite, Freyja and Isis all wrapped up into one ripe, fair skinned body. The black lace and silk of her stockings and garter belt and the high French cut of her panties made her look exceedingly feminine and I stepped a bit closer to her, brushing my lips against hers. We kissed, softly at first and then moved to an impassioned clinch. As we kissed, we pressed our bodies together, enjoying the close contact. The rough outer lace on her black bra was rubbing uncomfortably against my chest, and I thought that gave me a good reason to take it off. With my left hand wandering over the warm skin of her derrière, my right reached behind her and unsnapped the clasp of her bra, a skill I have always been rather proud of. It must have surprised her, because she broke our kiss and looked at me, her eyes dark pools in the blue lamplight. "Did you just unhook my bra with one hand?" she asked, smiling. "Yes." I answered, somewhat impatiently and wanting to return to her breasts. "That's cool, Alex, where did you learn that?" Good God, was it really that important? "Can we talk about it later, luv?" I asked, looking pointedly at our state of advanced arousal and nakedness. For emphasis I snatched her bra off and threw it with finality into the corner, on top of my Wranglers. After which, I looked down at her lovely chest and decided that she was probably a very healthy 36C. Hannah's breasts were not perfect, but they were certainly quite nice, in spite of not being as perky as they probably had been at twenty. Taking her hand, I lead her into the small makeshift bedroom with my futon. There was just enough room to walk her to the side of it and lay her down on the cheap black comforter. I certainly wouldn't get high marks for my decorating skills. As she stretched out, I climbed onto the bed next to her on my left side and looked down at her. That she displayed herself so confidently without clothes was incredibly sexy. It told me that she was a woman, comfortable in her own skin and so unlike the girls I had dated prior to joining the Marines. I leaned in and kissed the soft skin of her throat, smelling her perfume and the scent of her desire. And for several minutes, we rolled around on the bed like lusty teenagers, our hands roaming over each other's bodies. I rolled Hannah onto her back and peeled her panties off, noticing how dark her nipples were and the pale, small appendectomy scar above her hip. I kissed my way down her body to the scar and kissed it, then spent a few minutes exploring her stomach with my lips. In the dim blue light I made out the linea nigra that ran from her navel to the top of her pubis. I followed this with my mouth and moved happily downward, until she stopped me. I looked at her, hoping she didn't want to talk again. "I don't really like that." She said, indicating the oral sex I had in mind. I was shocked, for I had never in my entire life heard of a woman who didn't like oral sex. Regardless, I have always been supremely confident of my oral skills and very much enjoyed the act. Also, she had a natural thatch of black pubic hair that looked to be only slightly trimmed. The 'landing strip' is a complete turnoff for me, and I was happy to see that she didn't have one. Her labia were full and puffy, with the inner lips quite difficult to see and the outer lips being very prominent and deeply bisected at the base. "Are you serious?" and she nodded. "I'm a penetration girl." She said somewhat embarrassed. It sounded like a comic book character to me. Dauntless, I was intent on continuing. As Napoleon said, When you start out to take Vienna, take Vienna. Penetration girl or not, I was sure that after only a moment or two of my 'tongue-fu', that she would be well on her way to orgasm. After all, I did owe her one and I wanted to please her as much as she had pleased me. "Can you just humor me, please? I want to." And I really did. Alas, it was not to be. "Maybe later, sweetie. For now, just fuck me." Well who was I to say no? I crawled up to her and spread her legs with my own, suspending my body over hers with my knees and forearms. Kissing her deeply, I reached down with my hand and cupped her behind the knee, raising it almost to her chest and suddenly realized that I had neglected to put on a condom. She looked up at me, licking her lips and ready for me. I rose up a bit and said that I needed protection. She shook her head and whispered that she was on the pill. Happy that was no longer a concern, as I placed the swollen head of my cock against the moist lips of her sex and eased into her. I had never slept with a woman who had given birth before and always assumed that after something like that she would be quite a bit less snug than one who had never experienced motherhood. Much to my surprise, that was far from the case. She was quite tight and we both shuddered as I bottomed out within her. Neither of us moved for a moment, but I could feel Hannah gripping me with her internal muscles and squeezing me quite hard with them rhythmically. She trapped my face between her hands and kissed me deeply, her tongue delving into my mouth and her arms wrapping around my neck. Her pelvis began to thrust up against mine and I readjusted my arm under her leg, making sure I wouldn't cause her to cramp. We fucked slowly at first; grinding our hips against one another until sheen of perspiration covered us. When she would get close to orgasm, I stopped, forcing her to delay her pleasure and hopefully making her orgasm more powerful when she finally had it. She reached one hand up to my head and slid her fingers through my short hair, scratching and massaging my scalp and the back of my neck. Hannah was a passionate lover, and after many minutes of this, as we picked up speed and began to slam our bodies together, I could hear her moaning into my mouth and feel her digging her nails into the skin of my back and my ass. It felt great, and spurred me on, but I knew that she would leave marks. A deep red flush spread across her chest and neck, visible even in the dim light of the blue lamp. She stopped kissing me as she had her first orgasm and pressed her forehead against mine. As she came, moaned and spoke in rapid Spanish, and her marvelous inner muscles clamped down on me with each spasm of her climax. As she came, I kissed and licked the side of her neck, tasting the sweat and feeling how incredibly soft her skin was. I have always had very good staying power, and after my first orgasm earlier I knew that I would have no trouble lasting long enough to satisfy her, which was something I always worried about with every lover I've had. She resumed kissing me as I slipped my other arm beneath her other knee and opened her fully to my thrusts. I could feel her mons, swollen and soaking wet beneath my hips and began to fuck her fast and hard. Hannah managed to have two more orgasms before I felt my own approaching. I redoubled my efforts in attempt to allow us to come together, and was barely able to manage it when she had her final climax of the evening and what felt like every muscle in the vicinity of my cock contracted and clenched around me, sending me over the edge. I kissed her deeply as my body convulsed against hers and I unleashed shot after shot inside of her. Rooming with Hannah After we came, neither of us moved for a long moment. We lay there, our faces close and our bodies shaking both from exertion and the incredibly intense experience we had just shared. The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing, the CD player having stopped some time before. The sweat dripped off of my nose and chest onto her and our breath mingled as I slipped my arms from beneath her knees, letting them back down on the bed. When I started to pull off of her, she wrapped her legs around me and kissed me passionately. We stay like that, kissing, my cock ensconced and wilting in her warmth and my cum trickling out between us. That had been one of the best sexual experiences of my life, and I told her as much. In response she giggled like a schoolgirl and informed me that it was quite good for her as well. I then shifted off of her and lay on my side, my arm tucked underneath her. She slithered in close to me and we spent the next twenty minutes or so caressing and kissing each other, which was something I hadn't done in quite some time. Shortly thereafter, I dozed off for a bit and awoke when Hannah rose from the bed. I asked her where she was going and she informed me that she was going to go clean herself up and put her dress away. Then she stopped and asked me if I wanted her to sleep in my room tonight. She followed that question quickly by saying that if I didn't want her to, it was all right and she understood. I believed her, too. Up until this point, I had been doing my best to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind cautioning me that Brian might just walk in the door at any moment, and then all fucking hell would break loose. I knew that if that happened, it would not be pretty. I expressed my concern to her and she said that there was no way he would come home early when he was on duty at the station. I told Hannah that if she was sure of that, then she was welcome to stay the night with me. She smiled and said that she'd be right back. Since returning from Iraq, I habitually slept with my father's pistol, an old 1911, under the bed within arm's reach. When she went to clean up, I pushed it a little farther beneath the bed, hopefully out of eyesight. It was common courtesy to inform Brian that I had it in his home, but he told me that Hannah-the pacifist-would object so I should keep it out of sight. I did my best to avoid upsetting her on her return. Approximately ten minutes after she left, she returned in an old nightshirt that reached her knees and her hair in a ponytail. I was still naked, and she didn't seem to mind. The room was quite warm, so we didn't bother to crawl under the comforter and just curled up together. She must have taken a quick shower, for she smelled of rose scented soap. With her head on my shoulder and her breath hot on my cheek, we slept together until late the next morning. This is the end of our first encounter, though we did have others. I shall probably add on the others later, as time permits. Our relationship carried on for some time until I found another place and it ended, though not as I expected. I find the way our dyad changed over time the most interesting part, so if I'm able to articulate it, I'll add it as successive chapters.