Hannah Forever Single Ch 02

Hannah Forever Single -- Chapter 2

My early days with Hannah were wonderful, but I still struggled with some insecurities. The closer she and I became, the harder it was for me to compartmentalize her work. She talked to men online over video chat. She watched them jerk off. She showed them her naked body. She performed for them and they paid her -- nicely.

But I had to admit that it was better to be with her than to have her to myself. No one could own her. She remained as she wrote in my phone contacts, "Hannah Forever Single." We lived and worked together in our rented house. She simply had a better ability to compartmentalize. I loved her and I trusted that if she didn't have affection for me, then she would kick me out in a heartbeat.

Since our relationship became sexual, I enjoyed the fact that she was often partially nude around the house. It felt like we were backstage at the theatre and I was a tech. She and I would have lunch together in the kitchen. But I was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and she was in lingerie.

As a perk, she often handed me her camera to snap a shot or a clip for the socials.

"Is that showing off my lips?"

"Which ones?"

She shot me a look and pulled the fabric of her thong tighter. Truth: I think she enjoyed teasing me like this. Making me take pictures for them, showing herself off for them. And she was learning about me too.

"You liked that one?"

"The lighting was perfect."

"The lighting? OK." She glanced down at my crotch and patted my growing hard on. "Your lie detector is giving you away."

She even became more comfortable talking shop.

"A client called my pussy a 'clam' today."

I laughed.

"Yeah, ick. He was an old guy. Sweet but, you know..."

"Not hot."

"Nooo. I can only think of clam and chowder, you know?"

My face wrinkled up.

"Right?" she said.

We fell out laughing.

But during intimate moments, she often explored deeper issues with me. She was vulnerable and shared more of her early experiences, which weren't always positive. We talked a lot about our mutual kink for cream pies.

After sex one afternoon, we were laying sweaty on my bed. My face was slick from having cleaned up her pussy after our fucking. She never grew tired of that.

She said, "I think part of why it turns me on, watching you clean up all your cum... is..."

She trailed off, and I turned on my side toward her and let my fingers softly run over her breasts.

"Yeah?" I said.

"My first boyfriend. He watched a lot of porn, I think. I mean, so had I, but I knew it was not real -- that sex wasn't supposed to be like that."

I nodded as I caressed her. "I know watching it intimidated me," I said.

"The first time he came with me. He pulled out and without asking me or even telling me what he was going to do; he sat up and came all over my face."

I could feel her body tense. I softened my stroking.

She said, "It's just cum right, but I felt... violated. It got in my eyes, which burned. And I got up and ran to the bathroom and washed my face. I was crying, and he was laughing."

"I'm so sorry," I said. She touched my cheek.

"But the worst part," she said. "Was that he did that every time and I fucking let him. I pretended even that I liked it. I think I even

believed

I liked it. Like, I convinced myself that's just what boys liked from a girl. I bought into the idea that I was just a place to come."

"Fuck," I whispered. "I know what you mean, though."

"So, I think there's a part of me that gets pleasure when a man cleans up his own mess, you know? Like, it's

your

turn."

I smiled and lightly rubbed her nipple. "And some of us will do anything if it pleases you."

"It doesn't please

you

?"

"OK, OK. I love it."

"Yes, you do. And it's part of why I love y--"

I looked up at her as she cut herself off. She hadn't used that word before.

"Fine," she said, "I love you. But that's not important. What's important is I feel like having sex with you is healing, even if it's a little weird from the outside."

"What we do isn't that weird." I said.

"No, I mean the talking."

"OK, sure, good point."

I leaned over and sucked her nipple.

"I'm here for all the healing you need."

"Well, I am hurt pretty bad," she said, "And let's be honest. You only have so much cum in you."

"I'll try harder."

"I don't know. What if I want more?"

"Well, we're not dating, so I guess you can get as much as you want." I was joking, but she gave me a look.

"Do you mean that?"

I hesitated. My heart started beating faster.

She said, "What are you thinking?"

"I... I don't know."

The truth was, I had still had fetishes I'd never admitted to her.

She let that slide for a few days, but she brought it up again later. This time, it was during foreplay. Lately she liked to ride my face to orgasm before we fucked. She called it my "before and after" taste test.

She slid down next to me as she kissed my wet face.

"Mm. I do taste good, don't I?'

"Amazing."

"I'll taste better soon," she said as she stroked my cock. "Still, I wonder..."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I told you about my trauma, but I don't know all the details of yours."

"I told you about my wife and my best friend."

"Right, but there's more to that story. Like, does your ex have a name?"

"Ah, I see. Well, her name was -- is -- Chelsea."

"Is that what you called her?"

"I call her the Demon. Back then I called her Chelce."

"And your friend?"

"Rick. Richard. Now I call him Dick."

"Of course. How did it start?"

# # #

Rick and I grew up together. We each knew things that could ruin the other. He was my first roommate. He was more confident that I was. Girls liked him and I could never quite work out why, because he wasn't kind or considerate. He was a good wingman, though. When we were both single -- and sometimes when just I was single -- he'd cajole me into going to a bar with him. He'd chat up a couple of pretty girls, and before the night was out, we'd all be together back at our apartment. More than once, my date and I would be petting on the couch while Rick and his date fucked in the next room.

"Did you ever fuck in the same room?" Hannah said, interrupting my story.

"Yeah, a couple of times."

"Did you like watching?"

"Like? No, it was weird. He sometimes suggested double-teaming a girl. But it just wasn't my thing to high-five a dude while he fucked a girl and she sucked me off."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"That in your fantasy, he's the one fucking."

"That's not a fant-- Well, you know what I mean."

"But you watched them."

"Sure."

"What was the hottest time?"

"I guess there was one time. My date seemed fascinated to watch her friend getting railed. My date got off the couch to move closer to watch. I felt weird being by myself, so I walked up behind my date and wrapped my arms around her. I stroked her breasts, and she reached back and played with my cock, while Rick did his thing."

"That's kind of hot."

I shrugged. I had revised this memory as one of a long line proving what an asshole Rick was.

"Thinking about it now," I said, "It

was

hot -- at the time. Both girls seemed really into it. Like this was their thing. My date anyway... When Rick came..."

When I paused, so did Hannah's stroking. She said, "Do you need a break?"

I shook my head. Hannah was an expert at keeping me on edge. She loved to see me struggle, and I think she enjoyed the control she had over me.

"So, when Rick came?" she said.

"That... was the first cream pie I'd seen. In real life. I couldn't look away. We were close enough to smell the mix of aromas. And my date. When Rick pulled out. My date dropped to her knees and ate out her friend. Rick stood next to me and put his hand up for a high-five. He looked down at my dick..."

"And?"

"Rick said, 'Nice.'"

"So, you're bigger than Rick." Hannah said.

"Um, no. I think it was a backhanded compliment."

She nodded.

"So he got into your head?"

"Oh, yeah. That was Rick."

"But you're not small, John. Not at all."

"But you've had bigger."

"Of course. But that's not always better. I love your cock. I tease sometimes, but that's... that's play. If you don't like it, I'll stop."

I stroked her cheek. I looked into her eyes.

She said, "You don't want me to stop, do you, Johnny?"

I shook my head.

"It's OK to say it, Johnny boy."

"It... It works for me."

"'Works for you'?"

"Fine, I like it. It gets me off," I said, "When

you

do it."

"So, there's my little Johnny standing next to his best friend with the monster cock watching

your

date suck his cum out of

his

date."

"Fuck, when you put it that way." Hannah squeezed my cock to keep me from coming.

"Not yet, Johnny. I want a big load."

I gulped and relaxed.

Hannah said, "Did you get to come that night?"

"Yeah. I was stroking myself, watching the girls."

"Mm hmm. You liked the show."

"Yeah. I mean, it was seminal. Pardon the pun."

She laughed, thank God.

"So, when did you come? What was the trigger?"

I sighed. I'd forgotten this part. (Actually, I had suppressed this part.)

"Why'd you pause, Johnny? What was the moment that pushed you over?"

"Uh..."

"No hesitation, remember, John? We're being completely open or not at all."

I nodded.

She asked again, "What was the trigger, Johnny?"

"When... when he said, 'Nice.'"

Hannah squeezed again. My cock pulsed, but I didn't come.

"Good boy. Good boy. Thank you. That was good. That was honest."

I breathed deeply. I relaxed. Something about telling her felt like a release. I had buried shame in the memory.

"Doesn't it feel good to share it?" Hannah said. "I mean, when I tell you my stories, I feel better."

"Yeah, yeah. It's true."

"So, next question," Hannah said, "And remember I have your lie detector in my hand."

"OK." I wasn't sure I was ready, but I trusted her.

She said, "Afterward. Did you masturbate to the memory?"

I froze.

"Johnny?" Her tone was scolding.

"All the fucking time."

"Right. The humiliation. The voyeurism. The cream pie. The size... insecurity."

"All of it. Oh, fuck."

Quickly, Hannah straddled me and sank down on my cock. Not quickly enough, because I began spurting even before I was fully inside her.

She stroked my hair and murmured to me. "That's it. Good boy. Fill me up with your tasty cum. From the moment you saw your date sucking that pussy, you wanted to be like that girl. Eating up the sticky cum. Fuck, I can feel you spurting so much inside me."

I didn't think too much about what she was saying. The tone of her voice in my ear was getting right to my lizard brain. I moaned and grunted. I couldn't help the noises I was making.

"I love it when you let go, Johnny. You can be yourself with me. There's no shame in it. Somebody loves it, Johnny. I will always love it."

And it felt like a big emotional release. I don't understand it, but I felt a couple tears running down my face. She wiped them away.

"Yes, this is you. This is you and me," she said.

She kept squeezing her pussy around my cock, which was still hard inside her.

She said, "I'm going to lie on my back this time. I want you to eat me, the way she ate her friend. I want you to picture yourself as her, cleaning up her best friend's messy pussy."

Hannah rolled over, and I slid down instantly. I devoured her as I replayed the moment in my head -- the way the girl moaned and slurped, the way she used her tongue, the way she nibbled on her friend's clit. I pictured myself sucking her friend clean.

"That's right. That's so fucking good," Hannah said as she rolled her head from side to side. She was getting close. "Get it all, boy. Not a fucking drop to waste."

I moaned and gulped. I couldn't believe I'd come this much. But she was also incredibly wet -- wetter than I could remember. This talk had really pushed her buttons. I felt pride as I became even noisier. I also realized I was grinding my cock into the sheets. I wanted to come again already.

"Mm. I'm going to come, Johnny. I'm going to cum while my friend eats me out. I'm going to come while

he

watches us."

Fuck. We both came. Hard. I struggled to keep my mouth on her while she thrashed under me. And I felt myself spasm against the sheets.

As she finally relaxed. I sat up on my knees, panting. She pushed herself up on her elbows. The lust in her eyes was intoxicating.

"That was so fucking hot," she said.

I nodded, still catching my breath. I could feel the coolness on my face where our combined juices were drying.

Hannah looked down at my cock, which was now shrinking. Cum dripped out of the tip into the puddle on the sheets. She smirked and sat up. She reached down and squeezed the cum from my cock into her hand. She held it in front of me, like she was holding treats to a skittish deer.

I bent down and lapped at her hand, licking up the sticky goo.

"Good boy," she whispered. Then, as I lifted my head, she turned her hand over and placed it on the back of my head. She held my face over the soiled sheets.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered.

"Yes, that's right. You leave nothing, Johnny."

I let her softly press my face into the puddle as I slurped and sucked the sheets of all my cum.

With what I can only describe as wonder, she said, "I love everything I learn about you, Johnny. I'll never fucking grow tired of this."

I couldn't imagine I would either.

After that story, Hannah wanted to know more. But going back to those memories, while it felt freeing in the moment, I could also feel insecure the next day. Hannah seemed to understand and gave me space. She also shared more of her experiences.

One day I asked, "So, how'd you get started?"

"With the cam?"

"Yeah."

She nodded in that way that said she knew the question would come. She ran her finger absently under the shoulder of the skimpy wrap she had pulled over her nude body. It pulled apart enough to expose most of her left breast, but she let it be.

She said, "It started as a joke. Guys tried to get me to show nudes all the time. Girls my age are used to shutting that down. I've seen so many dick pics. But I had one man who was persistent in my DMs and loved my feet. And it just seemed easy, and he asked for my Venmo, and I gasped at what he wanted to pay because I was so broke. I thought, 'What the fuck.'"

"Feet, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she gestured to her closet, which was full of sexy shoes. "They get the job done."

We laughed. She stretched out her leg. I looked at her feet, which were quite pretty, but then I also let my eye drift up to where the wrap had dropped away from her lap.

"So," I sighed, "It went from there."

She lowered her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, "Does it bother you?"

"No, no. Well, shit, a little. I enjoy my work. But, ever since we've started... our partnership, I've noticed that I worry more about what you think of me."

I leaned over and put my hand on her shoulder. I shook my head.

I said, "You know I love you. I can't believe how lucky I am to be... whatever this is to you. It's not just the sex. I mean, I'm smart enough to know that I will never have what we have with anyone else. But your work. There's no shame in that."

"And you're not jealous?"

I paused, and she narrowed her eyes at me. She was always ready to pounce on the slightest micro-expression.

"No," I said. "I'm not jealous. I mean, actually, I feel jealous but..."

She smirked. "It turns you on."

"It really does, Hannah. All those men. And you're talking to them and playing with yourself and I can't see any of it. It's just all there in that room, and none of it is for me."

She nodded. Her eyes were smiling with realization. This time, she leaned toward me. She put her hand on my knee. Her wrap slipped down and exposed both breasts. Her pick nipples puffed up.

She said, "You've jerked off to it."

I sighed.

She put her hand on my knee. "Thank you," she said. "I love that you can be honest with me. And those men -- and women, full disclosure." She leaned back in her chair, but didn't pull the wrap back over her. "They don't get to see what you do."

"I know."

She smiled broadly and got up to leave. "Gotta go. I have work to do."

"Have fun," I said. As she walked by me, I could smell her excitement.

As she got ready to close the door, she hesitated.

"So, just to clarify," she said, "When you jerk off do you...?" She tapped her index finger to her mouth and let her tongue rub against her fingertip.

"I know the rules," I said, annoyed that I couldn't help but lick my lips in reflex, which she did not miss.

She winked and shouted, "Good boy!" as she closed the door. I heard her laugh as she went into her office, and I knew she meant it to trigger me. I had to jerk off right then, and, of course, I lapped it up.

Hannah had me literally in her palm and she was insatiable about a lot of things, but especially learning more about my failed marriage.

# # #

Rick was the best man at my wedding to Chelsea. He had a steady girlfriend and the four of us spent a lot of time together the first couple of years of my marriage. We all were young with no kids, so it was flirty with lots of fun and partaking of social lubricants. But it was mainly chaste. Chelce and I weren't thinking that way at all. I don't know if Rick or his girlfriend ever thought the flirting went too far. She seemed jealous of the attention Rick paid to Chelce, but most girls Rick dated were jealous because Rick was not faithful.

When the girlfriend finally tired of waiting for the ring and left him, Rick still kept hanging around our apartment. He didn't seem to miss his ex and now that I look back on it, Chelce didn't mind getting all our focus. She often asked Rick about his dating life, and he kept flirting the way he had. He loved to tell her all the dirty details, and she always protested. ("Oh, Rick, TMI!") But where before it seemed safe, now there was no buffer. We didn't comfort ourselves knowing that Rick and his girlfriend might go home and fuck out the sexual tension.

Now the tension hung around us all the time.

I saw it in Chelce's blush when he'd compliment her. Or when he'd make a joke.

Like once he gave her a compliment, and he said, "Oh, there's that blush. Johnny's gonna need to rail you tonight."

"Jesus, Rick!" I said. "Really?"

But Chelce blushed deeper. She lowered her eyes and laughed, "Johnny doesn't 'rail me,' Rick."

Rick shook his head and drank his wine. "That's a damn shame."

"No," she said, "I mean, we don't talk like that. But we.... we

fuck

."

The way she strained to say the word made Rick laugh even more. "Okie doke."

He loved pressing buttons. It didn't matter whose. He looked for leverage instinctively and then laughed as he kept jamming his finger on the switch that made you jump.

When we were growing up, that was great because I ended up doing a lot more than I would have alone. We had adventures. But as we got older, and I became more independent and started earning money, and settling down, I think Rick felt a little abandoned. He worked in sales (naturally) and always had cash, but as I saw it, he didn't have a future beyond that. He had nothing in the bank because he knew there was always money to be had. So, I pitied him, which was my biggest mistake.

"So," Hannah said, as I told her my story. "When it was the four of you hanging together, you guys never..."

"Fucked? No." I laughed, but I got quiet.

Hannah seized on that. "So, it was all just flirty fun?" She tickled me.

We were naked on the living room floor. (She liked to fuck there. It was neutral territory and had the most space.) I jerked around as she found my sensitive spot under the armpit.