Hannah's Secret

"Yes, this is fantasy land. You want me to be in your secret world like on the internet where you fuck, but don't really fuck because you're in cyber space masturbating so you feel you are not cheating on your boyfriend."

"Yes, this room is like a room in cyber space. It's not real but feels real. It becomes what we want it to be. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do, Hannah, but it's a thin line and we might lose control and cross over from one reality into the other. We're not in cyber space. It's dangerous."

"I know it's dangerous, but we won't cross over. I won't let that happen. I'm always in control." She paused and looked into my eyes, "Always!"

"And you think what we're doing is not cheating on your boyfriend."

"Right, I know it's dangerous and on the edge. I know it sounds confusing. And you think I'm crazy and maybe I am. I want us to fuck each other with our minds and hands, masturbate, but not touch, use our imaginations. Can you handle that?"

"I don't know, Hannah. I can try, but might get so hot I just take you. This is dangerous territory we're in."

"But its exciting isn't it? It's scary, but it turns me on. I love it," she said, getting up from the bed. She stood close to me, our bodies barely touching and looked into my eyes. "Make me your lover."

She then walked in back of me and I felt her tits on my back as she reached around and placed her hands on my crotch, grabbing my balls through my jeans. My cock was already hard and she moved her hand from my balls to my hardness, rubbing my cock through my jeans. "Hmmmmm, what a big hard cock you have," she whispered. "I want this. I want you to fuck me hard."

I was surprised she was actually touching me and could not believe how Hannah had changed, but liked how she moved her hand up and down my hard cock and how she was talking to me. It was as if she became her secret self. I didn't say a word, but closed my eyes enjoying her hands, letting her take the lead, my cock now harder than it had ever been, bulging in my jeans.

"I want this big cock in my tight wet pussy. I want hot, raunchy, dirty fucking, Mister. You want that too, don't you?"

"Yeah, I want to fuck you. I want my cock in your tight cunt."

"That's it, mister, talk dirty to me. I want you to ravish me. I want you to take me and fuck my brains out."

Just then Hannah, still in back of me reached around and unbuttoned my jeans, lowered the zipper and saw I didn't wear underwear. She took my hard cock in her hand, pulling it out, "Hmmmmm, I like a man ready for action. Damn, you're so big and hard."

Hannah's hand on my hard cock was driving me crazy. Just then I turned around and faced her, my throbbing cock and balls outside my jeans. I put my hands under her skirt, lifting it, reached around and grabbed her panty covered ass and pulled her against me. My cock was standing straight up. I gripped her ass, grinding my cock against her mound through her skirt. She gasped, "Oh yes!" and arched her back and started sliding her pussy up and down the length of my cock. "Oh you feel so good," she moaned. I could smell her arousal and loved how her ass felt, gripped by my hands.

She then pushed me away and stepped back. We were both breathing heavily. "This is getting too real," she gasped, panting, her face flushed, her mouth open. She stood facing me, our eyes looking into each other's eyes. She then walked to the bed, turned, reached under her skirt and squirmed out of her black panties, tossing them to the floor. "Time for scene two," she said then sat on the edge of the bed, lifted her skirt high on her thighs, revealing her neatly trimmed pussy and spread her legs. "Masturbate with me. Stand between my legs and we can play with each other and pretend we're fucking."

"Just a minute," I said and went into the bathroom, grabbed the little complimentary plastic container of shampoo and squirted it onto my right hand. In a flash I was back between her open legs, looking down at her wet pussy then into her eyes as she lay on her back, our hungry eyes fixed on each other when she lowered her bra, grabbed her tits and started rubbing herself, her mouth open, her hungry eyes looking into my eyes and then at my hard cock standing straight out just over her as I stood between her legs at the edge of the bed.

"I've seen some big cocks on the internet," she said. "Sometimes I use the cam," she added, putting hand on her pussy and looked up at me. "Jerk off for me, baby while I fuck myself with my fingers."

"I'll play your game," I said, my jeans dropping to the floor while she wiggled her way to the middle of the bed, her head on the pillow, spreading her legs apart. I stepped out of my jeans, kneeled on the bed between her legs as she spread them wider. I looked down at her hand on her wet pussy and then into her eyes looking up at me.

"Fuck me," she said, looking at my cock. She put two fingers in her pussy while I grasped my cock with my soapy hand, watching her fingers going in and out of her wet pussy, while she watched my hand moving up and down my hard cock. I squeezed my fist tightly, pretending it was her tight pussy, "Oh god you're so tight. I love your tight cunt."

"Oh, god, your cock is so big," she said, watching my hand.

"I can barely get my cock in you, you're so tight," I said, squeezing my hand tighter around my cock.

"Come on baby, harder, fuck me harder," she yelled, her fingers going in and out faster and harder. "Oh my god, you're splitting me apart with your big cock."

"Take it baby. Give me your tight cunt!" I yelled, pumping my cock through my tight grasp, leaning forward so that my cock was just above her fingers moving faster and harder in and out of her dripping pussy. She was twisting her nipples with her other hand, her eyes fixed on my cock, her mouth wide open, her breathing heavier. "Oh, yes, fuck me, Thom. Fuck me, Thom. Harder! Harder! Give it to me baby" she yelled, as she placed a third finger in her pussy, moving her hand faster and faster.

My hand was going faster and faster through my clenched fist. "Oh god, you're so fucking tight. I love your fucking your tight cunt. Fuck me! Fuck me you little slut!"

She then brought her other hand from her tit and placed it on top of her hand, then moved one finger to her clit, rubbing her clit while fucking herself with three fingers. I knew she was close, seeing her body tensing, hearing her ragged breathing. She lifted her trembling body off of the bed, arching her back, moving closer to my cock inches from her pussy, "Ohmygod. Oh, yes, fuck your slut! Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder, give it to me harder! Please, fuck me, Oh fuckkkkk! Oh Fucckkkk! That feels so good."

I was getting close, too and looked down at her hands and fingers and at my hand moving faster and faster. "Take it, you little slut! Take it! Take it! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I yelled as I looked down at my tight fist moving faster and at her fingers moving furiously, watching her writhing, our eyes and hands fixed hard on what we were doing.

I was so hot and it was all I could do not to push her hands away, pounce on her and drive my cock into her. I wanted to fuck her for real.

"I want to fuck you for real," I shouted.

"No keep doing it this way. Please, I love this," she gasped. "I want that too, but we can't."

With our eyes fixed on each other, she continued fucking herself, moving her fingers faster and harder, her body tensing, trembling, lifting her ass off the bed, jamming her fingers faster and harder, her tits bouncing, her mouth open, her breathing faster.

"Ohhhhmygod. I'm cummming!" she screamed, her fingers moving faster in her pussy and on her clit. "I'm cumming, I'm there. I'm cumming, keep fucking me! Harder! Harder! I want it harder!" she screamed, lifting herself off the bed, her fingers going in and out. "Oh fuckkkkkkk, I'm cumming," she screamed, looking up at me. "Don't stop. Keep fucking me! Harder! Harder!"

My hand was pumping away, my balls swaying back and forth as I kneeled over her, getting closer to exploding. "Oh yes, I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" I shouted, pumping harder.

"Ohhhhmygod, I'm cummmming, Ohhhhh yesssss," she screamed, lifting her body off of the bed as violent convulsions shook her and she fell back to the bed, panting and gasping, her mouth wide open, her eyes watching my hands, her cum dripping down to her ass and onto her thighs.

Just then I felt my cock swelling in my tight fist and knew I was about to explode all over her, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" I yelled, pumping my cock harder and harder. "Fuck me you little slut!" I yelled and suddenly exploded, spurting hot cum all over her stomach, tits and thighs.

She then reached down with her hand, spreading my cum all over her tits, moaning, "Oh I love this!" she gasped. "I can't get enough!"

Suddenly, I collapsed on the bed next to her, lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling, gasping, panting and dizzy from my intense orgasm.

"Oh, Thom that was so amazing."

"It was, considering we didn't really fuck."

"It still felt good, didn't it?" she asked, looking over at me lying next to her.

"Yes, very intense. You're something else, Hannah." I said, wondering whether we should be using our real names here.

Suddenly, Hannah sat up, "Oh, I've got to go. I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend at five."

"No, I don't want this to end," I said.

"I know. This is difficult, isn't it?" she said, closing her eyes as if she were shutting out reality.

"Very hard, how can you go from here to your boy friend?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it," she said, standing up. She picked up her panties and went into the bathroom to clean her body. When she came out, wearing her black panties, her bra back in place, she went to the mirror and straightened her disheveled hair and smoothed her skirt.

"Hannah, I can't let you go."

"Thom, I love being with you, but don't make this more than it is."

"I don't understand."

"This is play. It's not real. It exists in our minds, our imaginations and nowhere else."

"No this room is real, Hannah. We're here in this room. It might be a room we've paid for and don't live in, but it's real. I'm real and you're real and what we just did was real. This is not the internet!"

"I have to go," she said.

"Hannah! Come to the reading tonight. I want you there."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Eight. It's at the main library."

"I can't promise."

Hannah was at the door and I was still lying on the bed with my jeans on the floor. "Bye," she said and blew me a kiss.

I watched as she opened the door, waved goodbye and left. I lay on the bed, staring at the door, unable to believe what had happened in the last hour or so. I stood up, put on my jeans and stood in front of the mirror over the bureau, looking at myself, my shaggy hair and beard, my flannel shirt and leaned forward and looked into my eyes looking back at me. I shook my head and heaved a huge sigh, still unable to believe what was happening to my quiet life. I walked over to the window and opened the curtain and looked out at the city.

My reading was in three hours and as I left the hotel room, glancing back at the bed, I wondered whether she would come to the reading, would I ever see Hannah again. It was a painful thought, wanting to see her again and not knowing if this was the end of our fantasy.

I had agreed to meet my brother for a light dinner at Jewish deli near the library. I told him I had a craving for a big hot pastrami sandwich on real sourdough rye bread, something impossible to get in Maine. I had my poems with me and was glancing over them, arranging them in the order I would read.

When my brother arrived and sat down, he asked me how my afternoon was. For some reason, I still don't understand, I decided not to tell him about Hannah, though there was a moment when I was bursting to tell him about the amazing experience I had just an hour ago.

I told him I had a quiet afternoon, walking around and had coffee at The Left Bank Café. I told him I wrote in my journal, nothing more. I wanted to keep Hannah to myself. I wanted to savor the reality she and I had shared and keep it a secret, knowing putting it into words would tarnish it. I also knew that it was something Hannah would never talk about to anyone. It was her secret world. I guess I just wanted to keep our relationship secret too, something no one else knew, something only she and I shared.

While we were eating, my brother told me about his meetings and the project he was working on and though I listened, Hannah kept coming into my mind. I pictured her having dinner with her boyfriend, talking to him just as I was talking to my brother, but hidden inside of her, I was there--her secret fantasy lover.

After enjoying my delicious hot pastrami sandwich, my brother told me a little about the group I would be reading to, how he has known these people for years and they've been having these events at the library for long time. I told him again how rare it is for me to ever go anywhere and what a stark contrast New York is to my life in the woods. I told him about my philosophy to say "yes" when opportunities present themselves, believing they are God-sent. I also told him how I try to never have expectations and because of that, I am never disappointed and often surprised and delighted. Not having expectations makes life an adventure, but I must admit, my afternoon with Hannah was beyond any expectation I could possibly have.

Finally, it was time for the reading and we walked a block from the deli to the library. When we entered the room, my brother introduced me to some of his friends. There were about forty chairs lined up in rows and a small lectern at the front. The walls were covered with paintings and photographs. People were dressed in a variety of clothes, some men with suits and ties and others with slacks and casual shirts. The women were wearing what appeared to be expensive dresses or wore slacks and blouses. I, of course, looked different in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, but didn't care. I don't even own a tie, or sports jacket, or anything that would make me fit in. I was here to read poetry and not put on a costume that I wouldn't feel comfortable in. I glanced up at the clock and saw it was about time to begin the reading. I had hoped Hannah would show up, but she hadn't. I was resigned to the fact that what happened that afternoon was a once in a life-time experience and that was it, nothing more. I waited in a chair at the front of the room to be introduced by my brother. I looked around the room as people sat and chatted with each other. I looked over at the door at the back of the room, hoping to see Hannah then up at the clock. I thumbed through my folder of poems, feeling a little tense but excited to have this opportunity.

My brother went to the front of the room, thanked everyone for coming and began to introduce me by mentioning I live in a solar powered cabin in the woods of Maine and rarely leave home. People applauded as I walked up to the lectern. I nodded my appreciation and told them about this series of poems I have been working on based on the Sisyphus myth, that to me the stone he is forced to push as a punishment by the gods is a metaphor for the burden of moral responsibility, the burden of human existence and how much that myth meant to me.

Just as I was to begin, Hannah entered the room and stood against the back wall. My heart leaped when I saw her. Our eyes met and she smiled, lifting her hand slightly and bent her fingers with that small gesture of a greeting. I was stunned that she came, but happy. She then took a seat in the last row.

Unlike many poets who are not very good readers, I pay a lot of attention to how I present each poem. I try to give a sense of the setting, where I was and where the poem was coming from. Though I am not an actor, I actually perform each poem as if I were an actor. I was going to read for forty-five minutes and then answer questions for fifteen minutes, if there were any. Poetry can be very intense and I was careful not to wear people out. I thought of the old show business adage, "Always leave them wanting more."

Finally, I came to the last poem and said this is dedicated to a very special person. I described it as an existential love poem about illusion and reality and how we each create our own reality and choose to believe it's real.

Before I read it, I looked at Hannah and our eyes met. I smiled and she smiled back, but no one in the room knew I was reading this poem to her. I said the title of the poem, "Choosing an Illusion." Here is the poem I read:

Choosing an illusion doesn't make my life less real. And if I care to sing instead of crawling on my hands and knees holding up a bleeding heart, the sunrise still will sparkle on the lake and through the trees.

Morning has no pity as it marches through the sky. The choice is ours to shrink behind a rock, complaining until we die, or to let the imagination wink and look the passing heavens in the eye.

Noon comes fast and bright and shadows disappear at this hot hour. What mist was on the lake at dawn will surely come again at dark— and so I dream: The sun that shines now on your lovely face will rise tomorrow from my lyric heart.

When I finished reading and people applauded, I looked at Hannah at the back of the room. Our eyes met and she placed her hand on her heart, patting it and smiled at me. No one else had any idea of what was happening between us and for a brief flash no one else existed but the two of us. We had briefly slipped back into our little secret world, kissed and left to return to the reality of the poetry reading.

People mingled. A few came up to me and said how much they enjoyed the reading and thanked me for coming all the way from Maine. Hannah did not move from her seat and was observing the whole scene. I glanced up at her as I responded to the comments of several people surrounding me. Just then Hannah came up to where I was standing and handed me a small piece of paper, smiled at me and left the room without a word. While a woman with white hair and glasses hanging from a thin band around her neck spoke to me, I opened the folded piece of paper and saw her words, "meet me in our room at 10."

I glanced up at the clock and saw it was 9:15. I knew the Concord Hotel was about three blocks from the library. Finally, people cleared out and it was just my brother, me and empty chairs. When my brother said we should get home, I had to think of something to say so I could meet Hannah and not reveal anything. I told him I didn't want to go home yet. I wanted to walk around by myself and think. I said after a reading I need to be alone and would he leave a key with the doorman.

My brother gave me a surprised look but thankfully asked no questions, "Sure, no problem," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Once outside, I said goodbye and we walked in opposite directions. I walked briskly in the direction of the Concord Hotel, thinking about Hannah sitting in the last row and how exciting and romantic it was to be handed that note to meet her in "our hotel room." I was thinking: things like this don't happen in real life. They happen in movies and in books. In fact, this whole situation seemed like it was out of a French movie like, "Last Tango in Paris" and not part of the life of a guy like me who lives a solitary life in the Maine woods. And yet, here I was walking to a rendezvous with this exotic young woman waiting for me in a hotel room. It seemed unbelievable.

Taking the elevator up to the fifth floor I thought about her wanting us to only masturbate with each other and pretend we were making love and whether this would still be a more daring variation of cyber sex. These were her boundaries, her need to separate our relationship from her relationship with her boyfriend. I didn't know whether I would be able to honor that rule or not, but, if that was what she wanted, I would try. I have to admit I was baffled by the idea that just because we weren't actually fucking, she wasn't really cheating. I reached the room, knocked, turned the knob and entered but didn't see Hannah. I heard water running in the bathroom. The water stopped and Hannah came out of the bathroom wearing a short, sheer white nightie that came just below her hips, barely covering her pussy and ass. It hung from her shoulders by thin straps and I could see her cleavage and nipples through the sheer material. I thought how daring she was to dress so seductively, wondering if this was one of her secret fantasies.