Hannah 14

[Author's note: All characters are age 18 or older. This is a work of fiction, and NSFW.

I needed to get this narrative out of my system. It's a quick story (at least, it was originally meant to be), but I needed to put it into words on a screen. It's been in my memory for more than two decades, and I've only ever spoken of it to one person.

This is a "so-close-to-true" story. Certain identifying or incriminating details have been changed, and the setting has been moved to rehearsal instead of a class (it just came out that way when I sat at the computer, and, if I'm being honest, it reads better this way), but the dialogue remains as word-for-word as I can remember it.

There's no actual sex in the story. There is, however, explicit teasing and some intimate physical contact.

It happened more than 20 years ago, and to this day, I remember it clearly.

I still can't believe how clueless I was.]

--

It was my senior year of high school, and while I wasn't one of the "popular" guys, I was well-liked enough by a broad enough spectrum of people that I may as well have been. I was generally non-threatening, and because even the assholes one is bound to encounter in high school couldn't hold out from my combination of friendly/funny for too long, I ended up being somewhat of at least a hanger-on with every "clique" that existed at our school.

It was because of the theatre, funnily enough. We were in no way a performing arts high school, but every drama club production also had at least one performance during school hours, that students could attend, buying their way out of at least one class, for just one dollar. That led to packed houses for the "buy-out" shows, and even if not many people paid attention, enough people paid enough attention that I was recognized as one of the people who "got them out of class" a few times a year, and that got me a fair amount of goodwill.

In drama club itself, I guess I was one of the guys that people looked to for direction, even if I wasn't a strong leader, per se. I was one of the senior members of the group, and I had a modicum of talent, so in that one particular area of the school, the auditorium, everyone knew me and liked me.

The girls especially liked me. At the time, I thought it was due to my being pretty damn effeminate for a "straight" guy (I'm actually bisexual, I just didn't really know it at the time - that's for another story), and they felt safe around me. That was also likely true, but when half of the female membership of the club took turns sitting in my lap, or giving/receiving foot rubs or massages from me, or otherwise finding ways to touch me or be touched by me for extended periods of time, and our drama club was made up of about 40 girls and 5 guys...

I'm not trying to appear conceited, but like I said, I was clueless.

Even a clod like me, however, could figure out *eventually* that a girl liked me; it usually involved them finding me at a party, kissing me, and telling me that we should go out, or at least go somewhere else with fewer people. I was smart, but boy, was I dumb. I was cute, though, so I never stayed single for very long. As I remember it, I had started dating a girl in drama (that I'd known for a couple of years) the week before the events in this story take place. Her name was Laura, but you probably won't see her name again in the story, except for maybe twice. No; this is about Hannah. We'll get to her, I promise.

That spring, we were staging Fiddler on the Roof, and I was the stage manager. I usually acted in the spring plays, but musicals were...tough for me. My singing voice wasn't the problem, exactly; it was my ear. Tone hard-of-hearing, we called it. My voice sounded pretty, in terms of tambre, I just couldn't hit a note until the fifteenth try. I could design lights and call a show just fine, though, and so I had my job.

I was a senior, and in a way, it was my "turn" to take on an actual leadership role during a production other than the lead role and helping other actors discover choices they hadn't made. So, I ran rehearsals in terms of internal scheduling, breaks, and production meetings. The drama teacher directed and handled the money stuff; we did most everything else ourselves, with her guidance.

School had just ended, and my last class of the day was Stagecraft, so I was always ready for rehearsals before anyone else showed up. I spent the ten or fifteen minutes between the bell and the start of rehearsal talking to friends and trying not to flirt with Hannah. We were good friends, and she made me nervous. Before I met her, I didn't understand other guys' obsession with redheads. After, I thought I understood it, but didn't realize that it wasn't the fact that her hair was red; that was just one thing that happened to be easy to spot, and blame an infatuation on. No, it wasn't the hair. She glowed, and anyone could see that there was something special about her energy.

That day, Hannah had a look in her eye that made me more nervous than usual. We exchanged greetings, and, being teenagers, proceeded to eat as much as we could before starting rehearsal. Hannah gave me a wink, and we moseyed over to one of the side aisles of the theatre. This was nothing new or suspicious to anyone else, students were scattered about the hall in pairs or trios, away from each other so as to avoid having to yell, or so they could talk in relative privacy about whatever subject, innocent or illicit. She had me intrigued, and I couldn't help but grin, but didn't want to stop her flow of thought, as she seemed to be deciding about where, or even whether, to start.

Hannah gave a quick smile and an expression of mischief crossed her face for a moment. I shrugged, giving an impatient gesture of, "Well?"

She shifted in her seat and giggled, knowing that she had me waiting now, even though I had no idea for what, exactly.

She leaned in closer, took a breath, and whispered, "...So."

"So?" I asked, "So what's up?"

"Not much;" she was almost dancing in her seat, and grinning at me in a way that could be described as sadistic, "Ava came over yesterday after school and we hung out all night. It was fun."

I was at a loss, and obviously appeared as such. She stifled a laugh, and continued, "...my parents are out of town for the next week."

I still didn't quite get it, and furrowed my brow. Then, it hit me, or so I thought. It was Wednesday, so...I nodded and said, "Cool! So, movie night, and then...you throw a party this weekend, right? Do it!"

Hannah laughed a little louder, and glanced about, but nobody had noticed. They were caught up in their own gossip or weekend plans.

"No. Well, it's a maybe on the party. No on the movie night. It was entertaining, though, that's for sure," she whispered, shifting even closer. I leaned in, as well, just beginning to realize where this was going, and she knew she had me. She chuckled as she grinned again, and it was a veritable growl.

"We mainly just hung out in my room and masturbated the whole time. She's fucking HOT."

I'd like to say that I knew how to play this, and reacted with cool and aplomb, but c'mon. I was an 18 year old guy, and my crush (of whom I was so afraid that I had started dating someone else mainly to be "safe" from making a fool of myself) had just told me that she and our mutual friend Ava (the pair of whom are, to this day, two of the most desirable people I've ever even heard of) had spent last night in bed together, making themselves come over and over again.

I was in sensory overload; my brain short-circuited from the approximately 4 million fantasies that played out instantly in my mind. I don't think I'd know how to handle a comparable situation even today, and I've had some experiences in the last 20 years that would make this seem innocent. I'd likely react the same way I reacted then: stunned silence and an instant hard-on. I remember that I wore corduroys often, for some reason (in hindsight, I know that "some reason" was Hannah telling me she liked me in corduroys).

Corduroys, it should be noted, do not make erections easy to hide. I'm not sure if Hannah noticed the front of my pants, but she definitely noticed my face. I'd have been blushing if there were any blood left. She laughed again, but silently. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, gently shaking her head. "Well? Any questions?" she whispered.

I had no idea what to say. I sat back in the theatre seat; we'd each been sitting sideways facing each other, leaning in to whisper over the armrest. I wanted to laugh, but I definitely did not want to derail whatever the hell was happening here. I blinked, and tried to make sounds come out of my throat sound like speech, but could only stammer for a moment.

"Uh...um...oh- okay, that's...fun." Having spoken actual words, I loosened up a bit, and a smile spread over my face. I pulled it back under control quickly, after I realized that I must have looked, to anyone watching, like someone who'd gotten great news, and wanted to share it. I most certainly did not want to share this news. "Yep," Hannah nodded, "it *was* fun." As I'd sat back in my seat, our faces were no longer inches apart, she leaned on my shoulder, and put her lips next to my ear. The feel of her breath, and her mouth, on my ear and neck, were doing absolutely zero in terms of calming me down before I had to stand up in front of everyone in the theatre and trying to keep their attention on my announcements, and not the bulge in my pants.

She paused for a second. I could feel her laugh more than hear it; a brief, hot movement of air on my neck that had every part of me at attention. Her lips moved and she whispered so softly that I struggled to hear even though there was no other sound in the world for me at that moment, "I came at least twenty times, dude. Ava must have come twice that."

I couldn't believe that she was sitting here in the auditorium, telling me this. We were friends, sure; close friends, and we'd discussed the fact that sex existed, but we'd never discussed it this explicitly, and she'd never teased me like this before. I hated it. I loved it. I couldn't move, but I wanted her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, take her upstairs to one of the dressing rooms, rip her clothes off, and worship her with my tongue. I did none of these things. I sat still and let her talk.

"Ava's got such a pretty pussy, too..."

I snapped my head around to face her. We locked eyes, and she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips just slightly. She knew *exactly* what she was doing to me, and she loved it. This felt like crossing a line, somehow, but I didn't want her to stop. After a second of trying to make my mouth work, I finally whispered back, "So...tell me about it."

She licked her lips and grabbed my face by the jawline, turning my head to face forward. By pure luck, I happened to make eye contact with Ava, who was at the stage, a safe fifty or so feet away, oblivious to the content of our conversation. She smiled sweetly and waved hello to me, and I managed to smile back through the paralysis of fear and arousal as Hannah continued, "...face forward. We don't want your girlfriend Laura to notice anything, right? She could get here at any moment. So just sit there and let me finish telling you about how pretty Ava's pussy is and how much I wanted to taste it."

I did as I was told, and she went on, "She's amazing. Look at her over there; isn't she fucking hot? And that's with all her clothes on...now imagine her naked, in my bed, next to me, playing with her clit with one hand and fingering herself with the other. Dude, no lie: she can come in under five minutes. I thought I could make myself come fast, but we had a race, and she won easily. She says it's even faster when someone else is doing it, but I didn't want to scare her. I wanted to eat her sooooooooooo badly, though. I want to see what her face looks like when someone else is making her come. Fuck, watching her come is so hot that it made me keep coming."

I couldn't help myself; I couldn't have cared who walked up to us right then. I wanted to look at her. She moved her head so that her mouth was still at my earlobe, so we couldn't see each other's faces, but I couldn't handle not moving or seeing any part of her while she put these images in my brain. From the wrong (right?) angle, it could have looked like an awkward make-out session, but I cared not a whit. She was still whispering, almost too faint to hear, but her breathing had quickened.

I could see her chest moving in shallow breaths, and it was all I could do to not put my hand on her thigh. Nobody would see, if we were careful. But I was too scared to move any more; I didn't want to startle her into ending her story. She kept her hands on the armrests; the only parts of her body touching mine were her lips and tongue on my earlobe.

She paused, and I could feel her smile against me. "Hey," she purred, "just thought of something. You should come over this weekend. You can eat us out all day Saturday, I'm sure we could figure out some other fun games."

"Better yet," she continued pressing her cheek to mine, "bring Mark over with you. We can have a little contest. He can go down on Ava, and you can go down on me, and we'll see who can make whom come first. And then we'll switch, so you can taste Ava, and Mark can taste me. He's cute, and I wouldn't mind seeing your face in between Ava's legs while she comes. I mean, she is a fucking screamer. But then we've *got* to switch back, so you can fuck me all weekend. It'll be fun."

I didn't know I could get any harder, but I did. If she'd ordered me to come right then, without touching me, I would have. My breath was ragged, uneven. I felt dizzy. She moved just a bit, and I felt her lips brush high on my neck, just below my ear. She was getting bold.

"So, you get Mark to agree; not like that'll be tough. 'Hey, buddy. Hannah and Ava sure are hot, right? Wanna fuck them both all weekend?' Should be easy to get him to say yes. And I'll work on Ava. She's staying over again tonight, so...even if she says no to a foursome this weekend, you are still coming over at some point, and I'll tell you how her pussy tastes while you're licking mine. Oh, wait -" She pulled away from me for a moment, and my eyes opened. I hadn't even realized they had closed.

"Your girlfriend is here. I forgot you had a girlfriend now. Oh, well. We should probably cancel Saturday. Unless, of course, you two happen to break up by Friday. If that happens, you just let me know, and I'll make sure to tell Ava. If I bring it up just after she comes, she'll be down for whatever. Too bad about that girlfriend, though. She's told the girls all about your cock, just by the bye. And about your tongue. Damn, it *would* be fun. In fact, you should break up with her tonight, and then we can go upstairs after rehearsal and 'clean up' the costume shop."

With that, she stood up, leaned back down to give me a quick peck on the lips, and walked away to greet Ava. I stared at the way her hips made her ass sway as she moved down the aisle towards the stage, and started working on scenarios to break up with my girlfriend before the weekend. She hugged Ava and kissed her on the cheek, and then whispered something to her. Ava grinned at me again and waved.

"Meh," I thought, "it'll never work. She was just teasing me, anyway, because I'm safe, and kind of feminine, and taken. Good one, girl. You got me." I stood up, deciding that if people saw that I was hard, I would just deal with it. After all, I apparently had a reputation I'd not known about. I walked to the tech table and sat down, opening my prompt script to get ready for rehearsal to start. Hannah had found a seat next to me, which was not unusual, as we were friends. What was unusual, though, was Hannah leaning over me to grab a pencil, steadying herself with a hand directly on my cock.

She smiled at me, and leaned further, playing at getting the "right" pencil, while stroking her hand along my length, cupping around the head as she made contact back and forth. She played with me like this, torturing me, for only a couple of moments, before choosing the perfect pencil and giving me one last squeeze as she straightened up. On her way back up, she whispered one last thing, which has replayed in my memory on an almost daily basis since:

"By the way...I'm really wet right now."