Chapter 8

Apparently the bed in the studio didn’t appeal to her, because she took me to her bedroom. She had a queen-sized mattress, which was much bigger than the other one. More interestingly, though, she proved she could wait.

It seemed Hannah had decided that, if her little girl insisted on becoming a woman, then some parental sexual education really was indicated.

I got my first cue when we were both naked and she lay back slowly on the bed. She looked over at Harper who, admittedly, looked a little nervous, standing there shifting from one foot to another. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and they moved around too, in erratic, meaningless patterns.

“Foreplay is very important in a good sexual relationship,” Hannah told her daughter. “Bob will show you what I mean.”

So I commenced to engage in foreplay. I decided, first, to kiss her all over her body, from her toes to her head. They were just little, lingering brushes of my lips across her skin, but she stretched and sighed like she was getting a great full body massage. I skipped over the good parts at first, meaning that when I got to her pussy I didn’t touch her labia. Instead I kissed all around them. That she was still conflicted about things being gross was apparent as her legs moved and her moans took on a note of concern. I moved on and she relaxed, until I got to her breasts. I kissed every part of them except her nipples, until she was twisting under me on the bed.

“He’s doing a good job,” said Hannah, who was panting lightly. “He’s teasing me.”

“Teasing you?” Harper’s voice was faint, hesitant. I got the impression she was afraid that by speaking she might wear out her welcome.

“He knows where I really want to be touched, and is touching me everywhere else, first. He’s building the anticipation.”

When I got to her face, she wouldn’t let me avoid her lips and we engaged in a number of passionate, long kisses. I touched her with my fingers, but again, avoided her primary erogenous zones. Eventually she pushed me away, panting. Her eyes told me she was impatient again.

“This is weird,” said Harper.

“Obviously,” said Hannah, without looking at her.

“No, I mean it sort of looks like you’re making out.”

“We are making out,” said Hannah.

“It just seems weird that adults make out.”

“Making out is foreplay,” said Hannah. “That’s why parents don’t want their children to engage in it. It’s a prelude to more serious things. I’m about to ask Bob to do some of them, in fact.”

“Say no more,” I said, lifting up off of her.

I straddled her and went to work on her nipples. Sucking them was fun, because they got long and pliable. If you’ve ever watched a woman breastfeed, particularly with an older child, in the two or three year age range, then you know a young one can pull a nipple to amazing lengths and make the whole process look painful. It isn’t, of course, and a feeding mother probably doesn’t feel the same things she would if she wasn’t making milk. Or maybe she does. I’ve never intruded on such a woman and asked personal questions.

In any case, I sucked, pulling the nipple away from her body, stretching her round breast into a cone. I chewed gently on the turgid nubbin sometimes. I also moved a finger to press and massage her clit. That she loved this was obvious by the noises she made.

Harper made noises, too, but I didn’t look at her.

I kissed again, moving down over her rib cage to her stomach. I didn’t so much kiss her abdomen as rub my face around in it. Harper probably had no idea about the number of nerves in that area, just above the womb she’d spent nine months inhabiting, but I made sure all of them were stimulated.

Then I moved onto her mound and she started making more noise.

“No, Bob,” she gasped.

I ignored her and used my chin, which probably needed a shave, to massage the top of her split. Her legs sprang apart, and then closed again rapidly. I sat up, abandoning her completely, and her head lifted almost immediately to see what had happened.

I reached to lift her knees off the bed, bending them until her heels were a foot from her ass and paused, to move my hands on top of her knees. I applied just a little pressure to spread her knees apart.

“Bob,” moaned Hannah, her voice a mixture of fear and pleading.

“Let me,” I said. My voice sounded funny because it was the first time I’d used it in a long while.

“Bob,” groaned Hannah. Her head turned and I realized that, in addition to her lifelong belief that oral sex was “nasty”, there was also the fact that Harper was still there.

I glanced at her daughter. “Never let a boy do this to you until you’re in college,” I said.

With that I forced Hannah’s knees apart and dove in before she could take steps to deny me. I fastened my lips to her labia and sucked them into my mouth, just like I’d done to her nipples.

Her squeal registered a little like an old fashioned police siren, starting high and then going into the low registers, and then rising again as she felt something brand new and found out it wasn’t nasty at all. In this sense she was still a virgin, and I worked her over like I was trying to loosen her up for her first cock. I burrowed in and found her clit, which was also large, larger, in fact, than I expected. Like it was a little nipple I nursed at it and she pretty much went apeshit.

She was making a lot of noise, but I also heard another voice in the room, making similar but also different noises. If you’ve ever heard a group of girls celebrating something, or excited about something, you know what their voices sound like. Harper ... was excited.

Hannah’s hands had gone from pushing at the top of my head, to gripping my hair and pulling. The siren had been turned off, and now she spent a lot of time gurgling and gasping. Her hips wouldn’t stay still and her legs kept straightening and then bending again, spreading and trying to go closed. I was being beaten with very soft clubs.

It was time. I lifted my face and kneed towards Hannah’s head, reaching to squeeze and jack my cock one time. I was rock hard.

“This is why you never let a boy do that,” I said, looking over at Harper. “It leaves you helpless, just like your mother is helpless.”

It was a fine speech, but Hannah wasn’t helpless. She was, rather, impatient to feel the exact same thing I was impatient to feel. She ruined my speech by reaching for my staff and pulling on it, a bit violently, if you ask me. I let her have it, but only enough to get the tip to her labia. Then I withheld it for a few seconds.

“Bob!” yipped Hannah. “What are you doing?”

“Teasing you,” I said.

I reached to move her hand, so the tip of my prick mushed between and all around her swampy pussy lips.

“Stop it!” she moaned.

I turned to look at Harper, who had her hand in her pants and was gasping. Her eyes looked wild, but this time she didn’t run away.

I took my time sliding into her mother, letting her watch as the head spread Hannah’s pussy lips apart and then disappeared inside her.

“Fuck you, Bob Oberon,” growled Hannah. “Stop teasing me!”

I still had about an inch outside her, so I flexed my hips and bounced my pubic bone off of hers ... hard. I felt the tip of my cock impact her cervix, probably because her butt was up off the bed by then, trying to climb up onto my pole. Her gasp/grunt/groan was expected, at least by me, but I think it had a physical effect on Harper, who whined as she watched that happen. I’m sure it looked violent and painful.

At this point I collapsed on top of Hannah, pinning her to the bed. I knew what she liked already. There are two kinds of orgasms, vaginal and clitoral, and I knew Hannah’s clit liked a lot of stress. So I concentrated, initially, on that. That involved pushing deep into her and then rolling my whole body in a small circle. That caused my cock to move inside her a couple of inches, and my pubic bone to mash her clit as it rubbed things at the top of the circle. It might have looked energetic but it wasn’t, not for me. I was actually supported by her body. She had become a mini-waterbed and all I had to do was make my body move in that circle. Resting my chest on her breasts helped because they rolled in little circles with me.

I don’t know the science involved ... only that it works. I’m referring to this circular sort of sexual massage I tried to describe. It moves the woman’s breasts, rubs her nipples, and at the same time massages the inside of her birth canal, including her G-spot. If the penis involved is long enough, the cervix gets affected, too. Most important, though, is the clit, which gets direct stimulation from more than a hundred pounds of moving pressure. Put it all together and the woman will climax. Any of the individual components would also produce an orgasm in the woman, but would take much longer to achieve. Put them all together and it’s a sort of overload situation, where that orgasm gets kind of squeezed out of her whether she’s ready for it or not.

I had never done this to Hannah. Our trysts, prior to this, had been hasty and passionate and unplanned. But I knew about this technique and that I was going to use it. One benefit of this method of loving a woman was that, while it stimulated the hell out of her, it didn’t produce a lot of stress on the penis involved.

In other words, you could go a long time while doing it and not be worried about cumming too soon. You can go for half an hour easily, almost with no sweat.

Hannah squealed through her first orgasm in a voice that would scare most teenage girls who’d never had a satisfying prick in them. It sounded like she was being tortured. Her arms and legs moved violently but with no perceived intent, as if she were in the process of being electrocuted, perhaps.

I wanted to pay attention to Hannah, but there was an elephant in the room, at least for me. So I looked over at Harper, who still had her hand in her pants and was dancing around.

“You don’t have to go to your room,” I panted. “It’s okay. Just do what you need to, here.”

Then I went back to trying to coax a second orgasm out of Hannah.

I suspect that if this lovemaking session had been short and very sweet, like our previous ones had been, that Harper would have been able to ride it out pretty comfortably. By that I mean things would have been over before she got too worked up. But that wasn’t my plan, this time. This time I wanted to hear Hannah tell me I had to stop because she couldn’t breathe, or something similar. I wasn’t trying to be sadistic. I just wanted her to understand that, when called upon to provide pleasure, she’d picked the right man.

I’ll take a few seconds to admit that this whole thought process was based on overhearing two women talking on a bus one time. I was sixteen at the time and my parents had put me on a Greyhound to go to my aunt’s ranch in Wyoming, where I would stay two months and learn more than two years in school would have taught me. Anyway, these women were probably in their twenties, and very interesting to a sixteen-year-old boy, so I sat in front of them. I’d have tried to get behind them, but that seat was already taken. As it turned out, being in front of them allowed me to eavesdrop on their chatter, which included rather long and whining complaints that their men were much too quick on the trigger and not all that satisfying in bed. It made an impression on me and I decided I never wanted a woman to say that about me.

Hannah, bless her heart, embraced this (probably) new kind of lovemaking. What that means is she lay there and took it, letting her body be deluged in passion and not trying to hide any of her enjoyment from the elephant in the room. As a result, her second orgasm was slightly different than the one I’d bludgeoned out of her initially. This one she wanted to reach, and was ready for. Her vocalizations were completely different, primarily because you could now understand what she was saying, even if it was sometimes pretty breathy. I weigh in at 220, so I was squashing her pretty well.

“I love you,” she panted, as her hands got under control and came to my cheeks.

“I love you, too,” I said, grinding in a circle.

She turned her head, proving she was completely aware of Harper.

“I love this man, Harper,” she gasped.

“I know, Mommy,” came a high-pitched sort of yip.

I turned my head and saw Harper had taken me at my word. She was naked now and sprawled in an easy chair I knew Hannah usually used for sitting in to read, late at night. Her left hand was mauling her adolescent breasts, while two fingers of her right one were punching in and out of tight, swollen pussy lips.

“I’m going to marry him and have his babies,” wheezed Hannah, breathlessly.

“Okay,” came Harper’s whining reply.

Then Hannah put her attention back on me, or rather what I was doing to her.

“You’re good at this,” she puffed.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her as punctuation.

She had that second orgasm with my lips welded to hers. It was more quiet on the outside, but I could feel her pussy working on my cock, squeezing it. Her hips lifted in rhythm with my movements, rising as I got to the top of the circle, and relaxing on the “down stroke”.

“Where have you been?” she moaned, after it passed.

“Right here,” I said.

“Not like this,” she gasped.

“I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“Well I do. I’m going to want this a lot.”