Manolo’s comrades teased and badgered him to say what had happened during the few days of army furlough that so many in his infantry unit had enjoyed. The barrack’s block and parade squares would have grown quieter but that would change, once more, from today onward.
Now, with his combat training fatigues laid out on his bunk and his boots polished, he had time to shave and shower, his toned and muscular body not showing the effects of the pleasures that had been discovered with the ‘Inglesa’, as he had so often called her. Hannah was a woman some years older than him but who had the wiles that came with age along with the energy of someone younger. She didn’t know that some pictures were stored on his iPhone, images of a more slender-bodied woman, her blonde hair cut in a bob and parted in the middle so that it framed a smiling face, her tummy flatter than when he had first met and loved her in the orchard, her fleshy thighs firmer. Walking her two dogs, he knew, would have seen to that.
The woman he had lusted over, and thought of now, had beguiled him in ways no other, younger, woman had been able to do. Their impetuous tryst, in the orchard, when he had interrupted her as she stood painting at a small easel, had soon led to him being in her bed whenever the opportunity arose over the days of his leave and what had remained of her stay in the family’s Spanish holiday home, the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic to be seen from its tended gardens that she spent so much time looking after.
Yes, Hannah, the English woman had changed, in her appearance at least, since the last time that they had gotten together, but the ways they had loved had been taken to another level, so passionate and exhausting for its intensity and he had known the reasons why. Hannah had finally let go of the demons that had gripped her since the death of her husband and taking him as her lover, for the first time, had finally begun to ease away.
And then, their chance meeting a couple of months later when he had again been with his folks, on army leave, had eased away what they had felt on seeing each other again, the release of an aching tension that the memories of what had happened over that tempestuous week overwhelming them.
She was Señora Randall to his parents; to him, she was Hannah or his ‘Amante Ingles’ after they had loved; after she had aroused a wildness in his taking of her and he could admire her body and express appreciation for what they had done. Hannah was his social better, the owner of the large house in its tended setting that overlooked the rooftops of the village below. But in her bed, he had brought her on and, man, it had taken some time to seduce her into really letting go. The frustration of waiting had been made so worthwhile; the closed-in artist woman was no longer inhibited by her memories.
He had been patient from the very first moment that he had first met her when he had been helping his father clear the scrub in the olive grove and apple orchard that lined the driveway up to her house. She had arrived for a holiday with the family, his parents were in service to her. They had the use of a small cottage set apart from the main house that was sheltered by the wooded grounds of ‘Quinta Virgia’. When Hannah was not there, they would take care of the holiday lettings that brought other, separate parts of the house into use.
Hannah had it all worked out, how to keep a hold of ‘Quinta Virgia’, but not the effects upon her of meeting her housekeeper’s son and then letting him in. He’d pursued her, of that there had never been any doubt, and the raging passion that had then followed was not to be denied, even if Hannah had tried to do so.
“Fuck, how she worked me,” he muttered, splashing water onto his cheeks and cleaning away the shaving foam that smeared his skin. How could he forget how her soft, fleshy thighs, had caressed his face as he lay between them and tasted her, worked his lips, tongue, and fingers to take her to new heights of pleasure? She’d gone further than ever before with a man, even with her late husband. She had told him so. “And now here I am, again, with the memories of her.”
His shaving kit was stowed away, and he studied his lean, high-cheeked face for a moment. He’d been captivated by Hannah’s wondering smile, the doubting look in her eyes whenever she caught him looking her way which, given how he had fallen into lusting after her, was often. But that gaze upon him had changed as the days of that leave had passed and they’d humped in the full knowledge that their times together were drawing to a close.
That other guys were standing under the row of shower heads didn’t bother him; nor did that interfere with his memories of his times with her. He could close all of them out, the banter and joshing, and focus his thoughts solely on her, on the Inglesa; she who had worked his length when they had stood in the shower of her bathroom, and he’d slipped her the meat that he now washed but made no show of doing so.
Hannah had her ways and while he had a few moments to allow that, his thoughts spooled back to what was likely to be the very last time he’d be allowed in.
“I can’t go on with this…we can’t keep doing this whenever we meet!” she had gasped, clinging to him as they came down from their shared orgasms, their ways with each other now paced so that it could happen and neither fully in control of the other.
“We’ll have to see, won’t we, senora?” he had teased, such expressions of doubt belonging to the other times they had been together.
Reunions had always brought a heightened sense of longing that could only be released by them being bound once more in the web of passionate magic that they had again aroused in each other. Hannah’s reluctance or sense of propriety had been overcome; her concerns, that his parents would think badly of the mistress of the house, were silenced.
“It’s more than I can stand to hear them, some nights, doing it in the room next door and when they think I’m asleep. My father understands, and I’m not forcing you into doing it with me…am I?”
“No,” she had answered softly, “but we live for the moment. That’s all we can do.”
♥
Their last night had not passed in a whirl. He remembered everything as he stood in the echoing shower room, the laughter and voices of fellow soldiers bouncing off the tiled walls or rebounding in the vast space. It’s difficult to think of Hannah and not to grope for his prick, to stop the swell that could so easily become a raging erection. The sight of the woman, and recalling what they had shared, provoked every nerve in his body.
How he remembered her brazen ways, how she had undressed him and persuaded him to lie back on her bed, Hannah kneeling over him before she reached behind her back and unfastened the flimsy bra she had chosen to wear under that floaty summer dress with its buttoned fastening up the front, her thighs exposed whenever she had moved. She had allowed him to take that off her body before she’s taken control.
With her maxi briefs still on, Hannah had leaned over him and swept the tumble of those wonderful breasts over his body, then moved down to caress his length with them, a mischievous and lecherous grin teasing the edges of her mouth, Hannah’s look never leaving him.
“You like me doing that, don’t you?” she sighed, her breasts enveloping his long prick and working it brazenly in slow, mesmerizing sweeps, up and down, kneaded it between those fleshy mounds, her wanton caresses followed by those of her mouth and tongue. This act she had finally been persuaded to pursue with him, her mouthing of it only interrupted by his hands caressing and then tugging on her swaying breasts as they brushed over his skin, and he gloried in her nipples. They were hard and large and stood proud of the wrinkled skin of each areola. He now wanted the experience and fulsome glory of the older woman, not the toned and obsessive attention to the appearance of a younger woman.
“You keep on surprising me,” he kissed, with the raging swirl of tongues in each other’s mouths and hands reaching for and gripping the source of their pleasure. “Undress fully for me, so that I can see and touch all of you…”
He just loved the silken warmth of her thighs, the sight of her pert nipples, and the moist, pink lips of her pussy, as she straddled him, brazenly circling the domed tip of his penis before she sank onto him.
“I’m not going to stop you! I don’t know if we’ll ever do this again!”
“We can only wait and see, woman!” he retorted, sharply, her workings of him tightening the knot of longing for Hannah’s body, the pressure in his prick needing relief in the only ways that he had discovered with her through many a tempestuous night, even stormy afternoons when the rains swept in off the Atlantic and they had taken each other to bed.
He continued in his claims upon her breasts as Hannah leaned over him, her fingers merely stroking the base of his shaft in slow, sensual caresses as he sucked and licked on her nipples, gently, as they became larger and fuller.
“I…I go crazy from what you do to them and me,” she groaned and enjoying what he did, his attention drifting from one breast to the other as they were held in his hands and he pressed his lips to them, sucked, licked and slowly nibbled kisses to one nipple, or the warm clammy skin underneath each breast as his fingers tweaked the other, did so gently but certainly. Go on…you know what I like by now.”
“But you like this even more…”
He had made Hannah lie back and he had feasted on her, on the sight of the older woman’s body, its voluptuous firmness and the glistening pinkness of her pussy, how her fingers had parted those swollen lips and coaxed him to take her. He’d breathed in her heat, had seen her neatly trimmed bush and how her fingers had opened the way to her large button clit. How he had teased her by trailing kisses over those wonderful thighs before moving up to taste her and flicker his tongue into Hannah’s moist heat.
“Bring it to me…push that pole into me!” she’d commanded, her hands gripping his shoulders and then his neck to bring him down for a deep kiss.
He took her in one long sinuous stroke and felt Hannah’s arms and legs embrace and caress his body as he moved his hips in a deepening and tamping rhythm. Gasping in pleasure she lifted her body off the bed to meet his thrusts. By then she was moaning louder and louder, arching her hips up and wriggling underneath him, her fingertips digging into his tensing buttocks as he shoved in and out.
“It’s like this only with you!” Hannah yelled as she climaxed, grabbing at his skin to keep him to her. He had no intention of stopping, let alone slowing down, and plugged her rhythmically, energized by feeling her warmth gasps of breath on his chest, his throat, and then when they shared in kisses.
Her moist warmth enveloped his driving prick, her pussy’s muscles somehow kept tugging on him as he pistoned in and out, the wet slurping sounds they made inciting a wildness of movement in him and that she sought to keep up with. His military training had demanded endurance. He had that in abundance, even through the raging pleasure that he now pursued in his woman’s body, but she had a deeper source of motivation, it had seemed, that drove her on.
They provoked each other to continue pursuing the sensations that they aroused in each other, and he could not keep from contorting his body so that he could claim her breasts in his mouth and grip of his hands upon them. He shifted from kissing her and sucking on her shivering breasts, then bore his weight on his arms, pushed into the bed on each side of her head as he dipped and withdrew to the tip of his penis before driving back in, her calls to him an incitement to continue.
“Anda…go on…I want it all from you again!” she called out on halting breaths, struggling for air as he sought to kiss her and move away from the prick of Hannah’s fingers to the base of his spine, each press of her nails making him push down and into her, to squirm his hips, and heighten the sensations of all that she did, and he sought to pursue with her in these ways.
“Me rompes…you’ll break me!” he grunted as Hannah, continued to squirm underneath him and work his prick, to draw him back into her with every move that they shared, her thighs sliding over his hips before she clamped them to his body as far as her strength, and his movements, allowed, “but it all feels so good!”
Hannah’s pussy had captured his cock, the entire length feeling as though a hot, wet vise-like grip had grabbed a hold of his hard length and worked it in a pulsing rhythm that had him resort to tightening all of his muscles, in his groin, to keep from losing it too quickly. He’d wanted her to cum, time and again, while he had wanted to prolong the tension in his groin, although Hannah had known from other trysts that he would get lost in her, would want to fuck her fleshy body for as long as he could until he filled her and succumb, finally, to the orgasmic bliss she had aroused in him and that the sight of her always set in motion; lust for the woman always overcoming restraint.
“I…I can’t hold on anymore!” she had screeched in his ear, clawing at his skin, at his bucking hips as she had felt him thrust in so deep that his hips had bucked against her buttocks, her legs draped over his left shoulder and he hammered into her until she wailed in her pleasure and on feeling him burst, to shoot wads of his cum deep into her pussy as they climbed the heights of shared pleasure, while her nails had clawed at his shoulders until he had relented and eased her legs down, only for Hannah to wrap them around his body and to keep him deep within her. “Stay where you are! I want every moment with you to last!”
He sensed that the shower room was empty, save for him, and he turned off the taps and slicked his hands down over his body, sweeping away the water on his skin. The memories of his time with Hannah remained in his mind, the coarseness of the army issue towel of little comfort. Nor did it ease away the continuing rage of pleasure that his memories of the Inglesa had upon him.
He’d worked her pussy as never before and had heard the softer words of endearment and gratitude for the distracting pleasures that they had shared, and that she had provoked in him.
And then, Hannah had surprised him with the soft words of regret. She had whispered them against his chest as she lay upon him, her breasts crushed against his skin and the unmistakable prod of her large, hard, nipples into his body.
“You wonder, you’ve made this English woman feel like she’s the only one you’ve loved so wonderfully…hard and fast…tender and selfish. You’re a man like no other in my life and I’m going to miss your cock, body, kisses, and your inventive tongue. Remember me, and what I’ve said, won’t you?”
He’d kissed her trembling lips even as he had to accept what her words had meant. It had felt like he had been hit by a dead weight after the highs of knowing her and Hannah’s body as never before.
The sadness in her eyes had matched the sense of loss that he had felt, both at the time and in her bed, and then when he had travelled to rejoin his unit. He’d loved the woman both in body and mind but there was no future in it, only the raging pleasure to be found in the present and with her.
A harsh voice cut in, waking him from his reverie as he left the shower room.
“Fuentes! What’s keeping you, man?”
Someone, thoughts of someone that I’ll never be with again, he kept from saying.
♥
