We had met in a private club where I regularly performed. Over time, our greetings became warmer and more enthusiastic. A couple of the girls that I brought occasionally would throw me a dirty look as Hani would greet me with a hug and kiss with her full lips. The girls never said much as Hani often had someone with her, making the interaction appear innocent. How dangerous could it be, really? A sexy, dark-skinned girl, young enough to be my youngest daughter, was affectionate with me. It was probably nothing more than charity, as far as most of my women were concerned. While she inspired lust, and some under-the-covers fantasies, I couldn't chalk her affection up to much more than humoring an old man.
I wasn't that old. I'd met her when I was fifty-two. I didn't know her age, but figured out later she was barely twenty at the time. She came off as a little flighty, but much of that was due to alcohol. The club parties were a loose environment and Hani and I often shared tequila shots after I finished performing, continuously lowering our boundaries with each other. It was after one of these late-night sessions that Hani stopped me before I left. The whites of her large eyes were emphasized by her African complexion, and she stared into my face.
"You're going already, Jeff?" she asked. "The fun's just starting."
"Yeah, I have to work pretty early."
She hugged me, and suggested we hang out sometime. I agreed, but more as a matter of sociability. I didn't even consider that she meant it. My girlfriend would not take it very well and I didn't want to give the appearance of cheating. Still, the exchange was repeated the next time we met.
She was serious.
The next time we saw each other at the club, she was much more aggressive, if only playfully so.
One of my performance shticks is to dress up for the shows, and she gushed about how sexy I looked that night. She might have upped her game a bit because my girlfriend wasn't there, and I know I responded more directly for the same reason.
She was alone that night, so I spent a fair bit of time with her. While we watched the other bands, she would lean into me, put her head on my shoulder and thrust out her chest. I knew she had impressive breasts—they could not be hidden despite her modest dress. She wasn't modest with me this time and smiled when she saw me look down her top.
"Nice, eh? Dirty old man," she teased, but made no effort to hide the enticement.
Nice indeed. A significant trigger for me is a woman's apparent arousal and I caught the outline of an erect nipple poking through her lace bra. I felt a twitch in my pants.
"'Dirty old man', says the girl turned on by me ogling her breasts," I retorted
Later, we sat together on a bench, my arm around her shoulder innocently—innocently if taken out of context, that is. She never shied from my affection, but seemed to understand my attachment to my girlfriend and never went too far. We were just buddies, getting closer and closer.
That was in public, though. We had exchanged some text messages and she was driving the tone hotter. When talking about the coming winter, she asked if I was going to keep her warm. The idea was intoxicating and I was considering the idea of cheating with her. I knew I had to do something about it, if only to ease my conscience.
One Friday night, I was out with some friends and felt like a bit of a third wheel, so I messaged Hani. She was free that night and eager to get together, so we went for a couple drinks. When I took her home, not sure if she really knew, I reminded her that I had a girlfriend.
"The one with the cute, short hair? I know that, silly," she said.
Mission accomplished. But it did nothing to change my infatuation with her. I welcomed her messages and phone calls. I was still committed to my girlfriend, who was an amazing girl, and one of the biggest loves of my life, but I sensed that her affection for me had waned. She rebuffed my advances and behaved disrespectfully towards me, and our relationship was suffering.
Early one Sunday morning, I was unable to sleep. Hani saw that I was online and phoned me. She asked me to pick her up from the hospital where she'd been treated for an allergic reaction. I brought her back to my place, and we spent the early part of the day watching movies.
Alone with her for the first time, my resolve weakened. We were seated at opposite ends of the sofa. I started to move on her. I took her feet and legs in my hands, and rubbed them gently. She enjoyed the attention, and giggled when I licked her toes. I didn't progress any further—guilt over my girlfriend and Hani's recovery got the better of me.
Finally, one weekend, both my girlfriend and I'd had enough. We weren't angry and we didn't fight, but she proved my observations of her withdrawal, and declared that while she loved me, she felt there were too many obstacles to our relationship -- life path, social attitudes and political views. We parted that Sunday afternoon. I was going to miss her, but the past couple of months had stripped away much of my attachment to her.
With no guilt, I arranged to pick up Hani that night. We got wine and snacks to enjoy with a movie or two. She was surprised that I was now single, but held back at my advances. I expected she might even be offended, but over the next couple of days, she regularly pinged me up. We connected again on Wednesday -- both of us were off work.
She'd had a bad couple of days and wanted some respite and seemed to want it with me. She arrived and plopped on the sofa to watch a movie. We talked throughout and I would occasionally move over to kiss her or offer some other physical affection. Frustratingly, she would respond as a buddy even as I escalated my dominance: grasping her behind the head to pull her face to mine, closing in on her, making her kiss back. She seemed oblivious to this, but happily stayed close.
Hani is a bit of a phone addict, constantly messaging and sometimes taking calls. Near as I could tell, it was mostly family. Early in the evening, she took a call from her cousin, and it was apparent she was going to leave that evening. That was a little annoying and I was beginning to feel like just a friend. Not only just a friend, but someone to be used.
I was taken by surprise when after the phone call, she got up from the sofa and declared she wanted a back rub. She went into my bedroom. I warmed some coconut oil in the kitchen, and went to her. I saw her getting ready to crawl onto my bed. I helped her from behind as she undressed, and she giggled. She laid face down on the bed, and the vision of her was intense—the most perfect ass I'd ever seen, high and round with barely a crease where her cheeks met her thighs. Her burgundy thong was buried between the luscious globes, its presence shown only as it rose from the cleft in her butt. The top of her thong emphasized a deep taper from her hips to her waist. I held back a gasp at the voluptuous sight.
I was generous with the oil on her skin as I kneaded her back. The sheen melded with her complexion in a way I hadn't experienced before; I had only ever been with white girls. I decided to remove my own pants with no objections from Hani, and closed in against her as I continued to rub her down. Moving down her back, I paused at her ass to lick and nibble at her flesh. This was the first time I noticed her aroma. It was off-putting and I had a hard time deciding if she was clean or not.
I moved to her legs, working the warm oil into her skin. As I rubbed higher up on her thighs, her response was breathtaking. She barely whimpered in delight, but the movement of her hips and parting of her legs was the starkest of invitations. My oil-soaked fingers first caressed the fabric barrier of her panties, to which she gently ground back against my hand. I worked my fingers under to find the wettest lips I had ever experienced. She moaned and twerked her luscious ass against my hand as my fingers slipped inside her.
"My god, you've got a tight pussy," I declared.
"I know, eh?" she responded with her patented, self-absorbed pride.
"Conceited bitch," I scolded as the palm of my hand met the flesh of her ass with a crack.
To my surprise, she wiggled and squealed in delight. Spanking had come up in our banter and she made it sound off limits. I tucked that bit of information away for later.
"Okay, now it's time to do my front," she declared. She rolled over, fully revealing what I was seeking. Even lying back, her unsupported breasts spilling over the sides of her chest, she was statuesque. That vision was only enhanced by her youthful lack of grace— her legs flailing as I played with her, her body flinching at my touch or the flick of my tongue.
I wasn't responding to her the way I, nor she, would have thought. I got the impression that she expected me to be hard and ready to go without any attention from her, and I ended up not staying hard. I tended to her, putting out a lot of effort to help her orgasm. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, too, but she would barely touch my cock, proclaiming, "This is all about me."
Soon, we made our way back to the living room, and resumed our places on the sofa. We started the movie again, made more small talk, and drank more wine.
Somehow, in short order, I did come to life and I enticed her back to the bedroom. Despite her lack of attention to me, her enthusiasm was arousing. I had told her earlier that I wrote erotic stories, and while she didn't seem interested in reading them, she encouraged me to craft a little fantasy about our play time. I went the boss/secretary route and she really got into the scenario, being reprimanded, spanked, and used. It probably helped that my version of using Hani meant delivering a lot of pleasure to her.
This time, she presented her body to me fully. She squealed in pleasure as my tongue moved from her pretty little pussy to her asshole. That was another data-point I tucked away.
