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 ...