Jenna and Hank

by Matt Moreau

Copyright© 2011 by Matt Moreau

Romantic Sex Story: Their love is challenged mightily!

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic   Slow   .

I met Jenna Warren in High School, Central High. She was the prize female among all females on the campus. She was maybe five-three and not an ounce over ninety pounds. She had beautiful auburn hair, A-cup breasts, and a bubble butt. Her arms were so slim it was a wonder she was able to hold a fork to feed herself. In a word she was the prototype of the helpless damsel, and every boy on campus dreamed of receiving one of her smiles and being allowed to die for her. And, after having met her, you can believe me that I was no exception.

I was new at Central at the time I finally met Jenna, and initially it was not an auspicious meeting. It seems she had a boyfriend. Rodney Wilkes was a football star, a lineman actually. Physically, he was six-two and maybe two-sixty, and, he was good looking in a rough sort of way. Rod was a senior and he was also student body vice president. Mister all-everything if ever there was one. Me?

I was eighteen years-old at the time, five-eight and one-forty-six. I was okay looking, but I had a well flattened nose and one of my eyes was permanently part-way closed. I had most recently been a golden gloves fighter and runner-up in the regional finals. Before my two year golden gloves career came along, I had fought in the silver gloves division for some time. Most people are not aware of the silver gloves division: it's for fighters from 8-15 years old. At any rate I'd had my "golden" career shortened when my eye was damn near poked out in my title try. The headgear we wore was supposed to prevent the kind of injury that I had sustained, but equipment is not always as effective as it's supposed to be, and so I don't fight anymore.

The day I met Jenna we were passing in the quad and I'd damn near fell, stumbling over my own feet, while staring at her and trying to walk at the same time. She'd laughed at me, and I'd jokingly called back to her that I was no laughing matter.

I was confident with the girls even stunners like her. I was a fighter for cryin'-out-loud! I'd had girls like few others in my old home town. I'd vowed that this town was not going to be any different. She stopped.

"Oh really," she said. "You looked pretty funny to me stumbling all over yourself trying to get a good look at me." She was laughing, and I started to as well.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I allowed. This was going well, I thought. I was already making mental plans for Saturday night. This girl was a keeper.

"So, what's your name?" she said.

"Hank. Hank Wesley," I said. "Eighteen, senior, inordinately handsome, and willing to die for you."

Now she really was laughing, and she was pointing. I turned around. Standing in front of me was a brute. At least he looked like a brute to me. He was tall and big and not happy. "Hank Wesley, this is Rod Wilkes; he's my boyfriend," said Jenna.

"Get lost shrimp unless you really do want to die for her," said Kong.

"Well, now let's look at this thing calmly shall we," I said. I was a welterweight to his super-heavy, but just looking at the way he was standing and the noticeable paunch in his middle told me that this would be a good day for me.

The punch he threw was so slow, that if he'd snail-mailed it, it would have arrived sooner. I bobbed, weaved, stepped to my right and he missed. He turned to have another go at me, but he was more careful this time, not trying to unload a haymaker in the first minute of the round. I decided to have some fun.

I let my hands dangle at my sides. He threw blow after blow and absolutely devastated the air around us. He was breathing really hard after no more than two or three minutes of trying to nail me. It was time to put him down.

I faked into him and he went for it. As I stepped back, he fell flat on his face. He stared up at me as though I were some kind of ghost with supernatural powers. I had never raised my hand, and he was down.

Jenna was staring at me with her mouth hanging open. "I never touched him," I said. I wasn't even breathing hard, whereas her boyfriend was on the ground having a near heart attack. The football team was going to have to upgrade its training program, I thought.

"That was amazing," she said. "Where did you learn that? Is it karate or kung fu or something?"

"No, I'm just a good dodger, I guess. I couldn't just stand there and let him hit me. He'd have killed me!" I figured she didn't need to know about my almost boxing fame.

"Yes, I guess he would have if he'd have been able to catch you. Well, you win. Pick me up Saturday night. Six o'clock will be good. I wanna eat and go to a movie. Oh, and I don't kiss on the first date, so resign yourself to admiring me and maybe holding hands. Oh, and if you are very good, and if there is a second date, I may let you die for me." She walked off laughing.

"Sounds good to me," I said.

I'd only been at Central for a few weeks, but after my set-to with Rod, I was the toast of the school. That Jenna had taken up with me didn't hurt my reputation a whit either.

Jenna and I had many dates, and I never did tell her about my boxing career. There would be a time.

True to her word, she hadn't kissed me on our first date, but she sure as hell had on our second. God! she tasted good. By the fifth date I got into her pants. She'd planned it. I know this because she was the one who'd brought the condoms!

We were parked on the top of the Crease, a very narrow slice, or crease, of road on the mountain where only one car could go comfortably. It was a place where there were lots of these little turn outs where cars, having to drive the dangerous mountain road, could pull out instead of having to back all the way back down. Anyway, there had to be fifty of the little niches in the mountain's face. We found one that suited us.

She looked beautiful in her sleeveless white blouse and her gray wraparound skirt. She'd kicked off her high heels and her nylon clad legs looked oh so feminine. Right then I would have given my right nut just to be able to suck her toes.

She leaned back against her door and I leaned back against mine. We both knew that this was the night, but we were not in any kind of hurry.

"You okay," I said.

"Yes. You?"

"You betcha. God your beautiful, Jenna. You're almost too beautiful," I said.

She laughed. "Is that your best line?"

"I guess since you practically leave me speechless," I said.

"Well, since you can't talk, why don't you come over her and show me how beautiful you think I am," she said.

I moved toward her slowly making an effort to hold her eyes with mine. She moved toward me a little too. Our faces stopped inches apart and I leaned in and kissed her so gently that I'm not sure she even felt it. I kissed her again. My lips parted and hers did too. We kissed with no other body part touching for some minutes.

Finally, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, but gently. This was going to be the best moment of my life. There would never be another first time with Jenna. There would, I was certain, be more nights with her, but never another first night; it had to be perfect.

My hands slipped up and down her arms and the coolness of her skin delighted me. I took her face in my hands. I reached around and unlocked the car's back door on my side. I slid the front seat all the way forward, got out, and got into the back seat. She saw what I did and she mimicked my moves.

Both of us in the back, I locked the doors once again and pulled her to me. We hadn't spoken for minutes. I had nothing to say only to do. She was following my lead. I pulled her to me and she laid her head on my chest. I let my hand brush her breast, then stroke it, then feel its full fleshiness through the cotton of her blouse.

I began unbuttoning her and she leaned back a little and watched me do it. I spread her blouse open and unhooked her bra in front; her breasts spilled out of their cups small and pointed and naked; she looked like a little girl. The smell of her began to permeate the air around us. This was a female aroused and ready to be taken by her mate. She swallowed, and I could almost hear her do it; Jenna was nervous. I kissed her face, that heavenly face, and treated her like the precious jewel she was to me. I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked it, not too hard. She moaned very softly. I repeated the process with her other nipple.

Her blouse and bra came completely off and I dropped them into the front seat. We began kissing and I felt her breasts and back and tummy and gloried in her surrender. Then I felt her hands begin to undo the buttons on my shirt. Soon her clothes in the front were joined by mine. She kissed me and her hand went to the buckle on my belt; I made it easy for her to undo it.

"I love you," I said.

"I know," she said.

She opened my pants and pulled down the zipper. She peeled them off of me. My briefs and my socks were all that remained between myself and nakedness. She peeled them down too and a six-inch cock as stiff as steel poked out at her. She touched it, then held it, then stroked it. I took one of her tits in my hand and with the other hand I pulled her head to me and kissed her while she fondled me.

I reached for the button on the side of her skirt and undid it. Her skirt fell open and she raised up so I could pull it from her. Her panties, like her bra were white and cotton and very ordinary. She pulled her panties off herself and now we were both naked and committed. I stared at her bush. She reached for my cock and found it. She held up a condom, smiled, and slid it on to me.

I lay her down on the seat and lifted one leg over the back of the back seat and the other one over the back of the front. She was open to me.

"Okay?" I asked very softly.

"Screw me, Hank. Just get busy and screw me."

I slithered down her body and began to lick and suck her slit. I took her clit in my teeth and teased it. She began to jerk and shudder; she had her first orgasm of the night. I was pleased with myself. I loomed above her and poked at her like a beginner trying to find the opening. She took hold of me with her hand and guided me inside of her.

The head of my cock was inserted and I waited. I wanted her to urge me on. Her eyes opened and she looked askance at me. "Now, Hank."

I pushed into her and soon I was lodged and I could feel her relax and try to impale herself even more completely on my shaft.

I began to screw her. The condom made it possible for me to last a little longer than I otherwise might have; they had always had that effect on me. Soon I was pumping wildly into her and she was moaning and making deep guttural noises as she neared yet another orgasm. She bucked like a wild horse just as I shot my load into the latex sheath.

We lay sweating, the car's windows completely steamed up.

"I want it again, Hank. Give me my purse."

I looked at her not knowing what she was about. I gave her her purse from the front seat. She pulled out another condom. I smiled at my own ignorance. She put it on the deck behind the back seat and left it there for the moment. She was sitting up now and she pushed me back and began stroking my all but flaccid cock. She leaned over and took it between her lips. I had never felt anything so erotic in my life. It was actually better than when I screwed her, but of course then my cock had been encased in a condom; for a moment my whole universe was her mouth covering and sucking my glans and its shaft.

Her hands on my ball sac and her mouth on my cock brought me back to screwing trim very quickly. She sat up straight, and put the second condom on me. She turned her back to the front and leaned over the back of the back seat. She pushed her butt out to me. I was expected to take her from the rear. I didn't hesitate. She was so wet from her first fucking and my semen washing her vagina that I had no trouble entering her. I hammered her with short vicious strokes. I was a male taking his she. I felt myself beginning to stiffen and I exploded into her in a flood of white stickiness. I would have a job to do in a few minutes; she hadn't come this time, and I knew I couldn't leave her like that.

I pulled out and leaned back and she literally fell against me, her head on my shoulder. I couldn't be sure, but I think she was sniffling.

As thrashed as I was, I would take care of my responsibility. It is the one thing my dad had taught me about sex; "Never, but I mean but never," he'd said," leave your lady needing completion; finish her off, otherwise you're an asshole."

I laid her down on the seat and spread her legs as before. She gave me a funny look. "Can you do it again?" she asked. It was clear that she didn't think I could. I just smiled at her.

I slid down her body and smelled her. Our mixed juices were almost overpowering. I lowered my mouth to her gaping slit and kissed and licked her and then began to suck her out.

"My God, Hank, you don't have to do that. Oh, oh, oh, Hank, don't—stop! Oh my God dooonnnn'ttt stop!" She almost damaged my new dental work bucking like she did. But, boy did she cum! My dad would have been proud of me!

We dressed slowly kissing and feeling each other the whole time.

We drove slowly back to town.

She laid her head on my shoulder as we drove. "You ate me out after—"

"Yes. I ate my own cum, and yours of course," I said.

"And you were okay with that?" she said, not believing it.

"Of course." And I was.

"You are definitely my man," she said, snuggling up closer to me as we drove.

We had many nights after that that were memorable for me, and I think for her. We tried new things and neither of us thought of dating anyone else while we were still at Central. It was a happy time. What I discovered, and what I could not have foreseen, would one day come back to challenge my tolerance, was that my woman was the purest form of female sexual animal. But that was long in the future at that point.

We graduated that same year and I went off to state college near my old home town. Jenna got a job as a waitress at Marty's Bar and Grill, and we parted ways. The last night before I left for school was bittersweet. I promised to return often, but she was unaccountably standoffish.

"You'll be there, and I'll be here," she said. "I'm not the type to stand around waiting for some guy. I'm gonna date. You should too. Maybe we'll see each other again and maybe not; but I'm not holding my breath. You shouldn't either."

We'd argued some, actually it was me arguing. But, in the end, Jenna had her say and her rules were final. I was actually sick to my stomach thinking of her dating other men. But, life was what it was, I supposed.

Though it was two-hundred miles distant, I did return for holidays, my parents lived there for goodness sakes, and I did date Jenna a few times. But, though we dated, I was denied getting into her pants again. She was still setting the rules.

Five years later I was back for good.

I had a master's degree with a double major in Criminology and Computer Science. These got me a good job with the local sheriff's department. I became their chief investigative resource. I also ran training seminars for other law enforcement agencies around the southern part of the state. The pay was good and likewise the benefits.

Jenna, you ask? Well, by the time I'd returned for good, she'd left the state. I was told on the sly, by a common friend, that she'd been knocked up and her parents had sent her off to some small town in New York to live with relatives. Her parents, or at least her dad to whom I'd talked, were not forthcoming, not to me at any rate; and that, for reasons that were completely mysterious to me. No one else who knew anything would say anything. She'd evidently refused to marry the guy who'd put her in a family way; and he'd not been loath to leave her stranded in any event. What a bum, I thought to myself when I'd heard who it was. The guy? Why Rodney Wilkes, of course.

I saw the asshole around from time to time as I took my morning run. He owned a donut shop. It was evidently quite prosperous too. It was located near the park where I did my running. Every time I passed his place I thought of Jenna and wondered where she was and how she was and if she indeed was raising a child and if she remembered me.

It was none of my business, and police resources were not supposed to be used for personal surveillance or information gathering, but the day came when I finally decided to see what I could do to find out about Jenna. Hell, I had decided that nothing was going to stop me.

I went back to our high school and made friends with the lady in records, Norma Gardner. I hung out for a few days talking with old teachers and visiting some of the old classrooms. One day I stopped at the very spot we'd met. My mind's eye could still see Wilkes prone on the ground right there. As I stood there meditating, Norma came up behind me.


"Oh, hi Norma. You know it was right here that I met her," I said. I must have sounded wistful. "I'd sure like to see her again."


"Yes. But, I have no idea where she is, and her parents won't tell me anything."

"But, you're a cop, right. Can't you find out where she is? I mean if you're a cop?"

No, not a cop a civilian employee of the Sheriff's department, but yeah, if I had her social security number or driver's license number or something," I said. But, I don't, and I don't have a reason to pull in anybody for questioning, I laughed. But Norma could sense that the laugh was hollow.

"Could I help," she said.

"Huh?" I said, hoping she'd offer what I couldn't ask for.

"I don't have any address or license numbers, but I do have her social security number," she said. "You said that would help?"

"Sure it would. And, I'd be forever grateful, Norma, really," I said. I did my best to hide my excitement, but I was almost shaking in anticipation.

I worked late the next day, and as everyone else headed out for the evening I sat at my computer and invaded the privacy of a free American citizen. If I was caught my ass would be in a very tight sling.

She wasn't in New York. She was in New Jersey: 1411 Oak Road, Hoboken.

She was a thousand miles away, but I was determined to be there by the weekend. I had a week's comp time credited, and I signed off to take it. The Captain, looked at me strangely, but I just told him I had some personal business to attend to, and that I would be back a week from Monday to give the devil his due. He laughed and waved me off.

I landed at Liberty International at 6:00PM. I rented a car and was on my way to the address in Hoboken, some ten miles distant, within the hour. I had a little trouble finding Oak Street, but I bought a Thomas Map Guide and was in front of her house by 7:30PM. There was a light on in the front room.

I sat in the car and waited, thinking. What if I was the last person on earth that she wanted to see? What if she had a boyfriend or a fiancé or even a husband? Hell anything could go wrong. And, remembering Murphy's law, I was sure that it likely would. But, nothing was going to stop me. I needed my woman, and if not her at least closure.

I got out and headed up the walk to the stoop. I paused, my hand just six inches from the door ready to rap. I rapped. I could hear footsteps. The door opened. She looked at me and I at her. She was beautiful and obviously ready to go out somewhere.

"Hank? Hank Wesley?"

"You betcha. I'm here looking for my woman. You seen her?" I asked with a straight face.

"Hank, Hank, come in. I was about to go out but—wait here—sit," she said. She went to the phone.

"Caroline ... yeah it's me ... no, no, no ... something's come up ... not tonight ... I have to ... no ... reschedule ... something's come up I said ... I'll tell you later." she hung up.

She came back and stood in front of me. "My God!" she said. "It's really you. I have to tell you, you surprised me. I had a date, but I just cancelled him, so you have to fill in. I don't get dressed up like this for nothing," she laughed.

"My absolute pleasure," I said.

She gave me directions and we ended up at a small but tasteful bistro with a piano player that actually played romantic music. The lights were dim, and the place smelled like old Italy probably smelled.

The dinner was great, the wine first rate, and the music right out of the thirties. We talked about everything except what I most wanted to talk about: she'd put the kibosh on that during minute one at the bistro. Regardless, it was a fabulous date. It was, that is, until it was time to part.

I took her home. She stopped me on the stoop and kissed me hard. I looked at her and I could tell something was wrong.

"Hank, I can't tell you how nice it was for you to show up and take this girl out tonight. It was a dream come true for me. I have thought about you so many times over the last few years."

"For me too," I said. "But there's a but in there isn't there?" I said, sensing it coming.

"I'm afraid so. Hank, we can't be together. I have been trying to think of a way to tell you tonight almost from when I opened the door and saw you standing there. There is just way too much water under the bridge, and I hope you'll allow me my privacy and not intrude into my life here. It just wouldn't work out you and me. Let this be our swan song," she said. She reached for the door knob and rushed in. She was already crying.

To say I was crushed would not even begin to describe the pain I was feeling. I was numb. I stood there on the stoop for several moments trying to figure out what was going on. Finally, I left. She had said to not invade her privacy, not to intrude into her life. I was willing to do anything she asked of me. But, I was not willing to do that one thing; I'd fight her on that one, and I'd win. And, the next time I saw her I was would tell her that, and there would a next time.

I was definitely going to figure out just what water under the bridge she was talking about, and that no matter what. If she hadn't actually murdered someone, and maybe even if she had, I still wanted and needed her.

I wasn't rich, but I was doing all right. I had a house, a good income, and I was single as hell. Aged 30 and I was still single. It was obvious to me that so was she. Hell, logically, she should have jumped at the chance to marry me, or at least date me; I was a helluva a catch. She wasn't just my friend; she was my life; I knew that now, and it was killing me. I had let too much time pass since returning and getting settled, what, five years!

I knew she probably had a child, Rod Wilkes child, though I hadn't seen one when I'd arrived on her doorstep; probably already at the babysitter's, I figured. But, an illegitimate child in itself couldn't be the reason for the finality of her attitude. No, it had to be something worse. Somebody had to know what it was, but who?

I was pretty sure I could get the truth out of her parents, but it wasn't going to be easy. Time to apply the pressure. Harry and Doris Warren were long time residents of the town. Their only child, Jenna was a wonder. Everyone had said so. But, sometime after I left for college, and not long before I returned for good, something'd happened.

There was the pregnancy. There was the shipping her off to relatives, to presumably have the baby, or so the story went. But, Jenna was never spoken of in the town; it was like she'd never lived there. Her parents too seemed semi-reclusive. For sure, something had gone wrong and no one would say what, if in fact anyone did actually know.

I sat in a sheriff's cruiser across from the Warren house on 4th street. I went over for the tenth time what I was going to say. I had made up my mind that I wasn't leaving until I had the whole ball of wax.

I was wearing a suit, my best business suit. It was one of the ones I used for presentations to other regional law enforcement agencies. I wanted to appear as intimidating as I could to the quiet couple that I was likely about to shake up big time.

I knocked and the door opened a minute later. "Mrs. Warren? I'm..."

"Yes, I remember you, Hank. If you're still looking for Jenna..." She immediately knew, or presumed to know, why I was there; that was interesting.

"Mrs. Warren, I found Jenna. We went to dinner just the other night. May I come in?" That surprised her; it stopped her for a moment. She recovered.

"Hank, I know you spoke to my husband a few of years ago; nothing has changed. We don't speak of Jenna anymore."

"Well, you're going to today," I said. "And, you're not going to hold anything back. I am more than ready and able to put pressure on you that you can neither fight nor resist. Trust me, I mean business, and I never bluff." I felt like an asshole, and I was bluffing, but this bullshit had gone on for far too long.

"Hank! Are you threatening us?" said the surprised, no, shocked woman.

"Take it any way you want. I'm here to get answers, and I'm going to get them," I said.

We both looked around to see a big man, balding, with the weathered countenance of a blue collar worker come into the room. He studied me. "Sit down, Hank."

"Mr. Warren," I said. He didn't offer me his hand, and I took no offense.

"Doris, could you leave us alone for a bit. Mr. Wesley is obviously not going to let sleeping dogs lie, and truth told, he has a right to know."

"Thank you," I said.

"Hold that thought until you've heard what I have to say, Hank.

"Here's the deal. I'm going to tell you what you want to know, but I am going to ask you to not talk about it to anyone here in town, ever, and to leave us alone after this. Are you agreed?"

I nodded. "If that's the way you want it.'

"It is," he said.

"Okay, unless it's a crime then—"

"I heard you say you went out with Jenna the other night. Did I hear right," said Harry.

"Yes, I found out where she lived and went to see her. You have her address too, don't you?" I said.

"No, our daughter is dead to us. We haven't had contact with her since she left years ago. Before you came back to stay I guess," said Harry.

"What did you say? Dead to you! Are you crazy! She's a wonderful woman and beautiful one. Why would you ever say such a thing about your own baby?"

Harry looked at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen. It was clear he was having trouble talking.

"Look, Mr. Warren, Harry, has she murdered anyone?"

"Heavens no!" he almost yelled.

"Has she committed treason? Or anything like that. I mean big time prison offenses? You know I'm with the sheriff's department, and I am not asking these questions rhetorically," I said.

"No, no, no to all of that," he said.

"Then take my advice and go to that wonderful person we all know Jenna Warren is," I said, "and love her."

"We can't. One, she won't see us, not after the—fight. Two, she's not the same girl you knew in high school, trust me officer, she's not."

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