Hanna Ch. 06-09

'And you're an exhibitionist?'

Again she laughed. 'Don't worry, unlike Louise, I don't go out on flashing sprees Mac.'

'Louise?'

'The second girl you saw. But I'll tell you a little about her later, that is if you want me to. But as I said, I can get turned-on by knowing that the right man is getting aroused by what he can see of me. Just like you, it's all to do with things that happened to me a long, long time ago.'

'Are you going to tell me about that?'

'Would you like me to?'

'Yes please, so long as you are comfortable doing so.'

'OK, but first let me clean-up a bit and then get us both a glass of wine, you must be thirsty, I know I am. There are some tissues in the top drawer of that cabinet.' she added before slipping out of bed and heading for the door. She hadn't bothered to cover herself so for a few moments I was able to watch her tautly rounded buttocks jouncing, then while I thought about the thrilling delights we had just shared I found the tissues and wiped myself clean.

She was only gone for a few minutes and when she returned carrying two overly large glasses of what appeared to be white wine I noticed she had removed the stockings. 'Don't report me to the etiquette police, I used claret glasses, they hold more.' she said with a low giggle as she handed one to me.

It was a chilled chardonnay style wine, minimal sugar, pleasantly fruity and very refreshing. 'Just the thing.' I said having taken a fair sized mouthful. 'Now, if you continue standing there looking the way you do I might not be able to control myself, so get back in here and take my mind off those things by telling me your story.'

She slid back in beside me and pulled the sheet up. 'Is that better?' she said with a broad grin.

I nodded and took another sip from the glass as she began to tell me what had happened to her as a young girl.

'Well first let me say that my Mother told me I was always a bit like that. Even as a very small girl I was the sort that could be relied on to find an excuse to flash her knickers when there were guests in the house. But then when I had just turned eighteen, during my last year at high school, something happened that changed, and in some ways strengthened that childish inclination.'

'That's pretty close to the age I was when I had that experience of mine.' I interjected.

'Yes. It's interesting isn't it? I remember reading an article written by a quite distinguished psychiatrist who was writing about the impact and long-term effect of sexual experiences in early puberty. It seems they have a capacity to mark us for life in various ways.'

'It sounds as though ours did. But I'm sorry I interrupted, please go on.'

'Well, I attended a nearby girls' school, and as there was just a large park separating it from where we lived four or five of us would walk through it together on the way home after school. One Autumn afternoon, I know it was that time of the year because I remember the changing colours of the trees, I must have been later than usual, perhaps due to choir practice or something like that, anyway, I was alone.

I should explain that the park was ringed by trees and there were avenues of flowering shrubs cutting across from corner to corner, but apart from a pool and fountain, the central area was just grass and small flowerbeds. So from certain spots someone sitting beneath the trees could see almost all the way across to the other side.

As I walked around the central pool I saw that he was there again, on a seat under the trees near where the path I was on went through them. His being there didn't worry me because he nearly always was, we used to giggle about him, not because we knew he was watching us, but because no matter what the weather he always wore the same overcoat, even on really warm afternoons. It was one of those very long ones that have come back into fashion, going down almost to the ankles.

Anyway, because we were so used to seeing him there I didn't really think about him at all, in fact I think I was still singing to myself the piece we had been practising. But when I got a little closer, perhaps thirty metres or so, I slowed right down, because even from that distance I thought I knew what he was doing.

I should back-track a bit. My parents were very liberal minded about physicality and sexuality. In addition to what we learned about sex at school they had always given me full and frank details of not just the basics but also the emotional and purely pleasurable aspects of sex. And there was no unnecessary modesty about the house, I had known from an early age about the differences between men and women's bodies. For many years my brother and I were bathed together, and I had quite often seen my mother and my father naked when one or other was going from the bath-room to the bed-room.

But although I knew about men's erections, until that day I had never actually seen one.

Thinking about it later I realised that what the man must have done was to cut slits in the lining of his coat, so when he put his hands in the pockets he could reach through to handle himself. And he had probably been doing that for all those weeks we had been giggling about him.

Who knows what made him open his coat that evening. Was it because he felt more secure as it began to get dark? Was it because he saw one girl on her own? Anyway, he had, and as I continued walking along the path towards him I could see he was masturbating.

The odd thing is that it wasn't at all frightening, I didn't feel threatened in any way. At first I was simply curious, I knew men did it, and I had been doing it to myself for a year or more. So as I walked slowly closer I kept my eyes on what he was doing, trying to make out what a penis actually looked like when erect. But because he was sitting down and had his hand wrapped around it that was almost impossible. All I could see was the head, the bulbous, dark red head sticking out each time his hand moved down.

Even while I was staring at what he was doing I somehow knew that he was staring just as hard at me, that it was looking at me that had got him excited. And just then I realised that something was happening to me too, I felt that warm, juicy feeling down between my legs, felt it strengthening and then slowly spreading up through the rest of my body.

I don't know if I actually clutched myself, I know I wanted to, wanted to do something to relieve the itch that had started. But I do know that when I was about ten or fifteen metres from him I stopped, just stood there looking at his hand moving up and down.

Maybe I did drop one hand down, maybe it was just because I stopped, sort of gave him permission to continue doing it, anyway, his hand suddenly began moving much, much faster. I knew he was going to come, and more than anything else I wanted to see that moment.

Heaven knows what I expected to see, maybe a fountain of semen like the one in the middle of the park. But I know I was a bit disappointed, I heard him grunt, saw a bit of white stuff appear at the tip of his penis, then looked up briefly to see the expression on his face. Then he got up, pulled the coat tightly around himself and hurried off through the trees, leaving me standing there, trembling from head to foot.

If he had stayed around he would have got a real treat because I was feeling so wound-up that as soon as I could get my legs to work I headed into the nearby shrubbery, yanked up my skirt and did it to myself.

It wasn't until later that evening, when I thought through what had happened that I tried to work out what had actually got to me. It seemed silly, but the only explanation I could think of was that knowing he had got that excited from looking at me had done that. And maybe the fact that I had watched him actually reach orgasm from just being able to do that had made what I felt even more powerful.

But I wasn't sure, and I was determined to find out. So over the next few months I must have given a lot of men quite a few cheap thrills.' she added with that familiar deep-throated laugh.

'What did you do?'

'Various things, but my favourite, and the thing I became quite proficient at doing was hitching my skirt up too high when I sat down, so long as I was alone of course, and especially on trains.

My grandmother lived on the other side of the city, about twenty minutes by train, and I used to visit her once or twice a week after school, then my father would pick me up on his way home. I always had a book to read, but during those months I was in fact surreptitiously checking to see if any man was looking at my legs. As I said, I got very adept at pulling my skirt up a bit too high as I sat down, then I'd sit with my legs spread a little too far apart. My thinking was that although they wouldn't have been able to see right up to my knickers they would see a fair bit of thigh, and might think they'd see a bit more when I moved.

But getting a result from my experiment was more difficult than I'd thought it would be. Trying to see exactly where men were looking was difficult without actually looking up from the book I was pretending to read, and if I did that they'd get embarrassed and look away. Then I found I could sometimes use the reflections on the windows, particularly when the train was going under a bridge, or passing a building very close to the line. Although I couldn't see enough detail to be absolutely sure I could usually tell from the angle of a man's head where he was most likely looking.

And I found that when I saw one I was pretty confident about, I did begin to get that lovely squirmy feeling.

But what really clinched it was one particular man. In fact he was probably only a few years older than I was, in his late teens, quite nice looking too, at least as I remember him. He was obviously a workman, probably on his way home, and was still wearing his dungarees. They were quite clean, but a bit too big for him, quite baggy. He'd got on at the same station as I had and although he had moved a bit further down the carriage, when he sat down he could see straight back down the aisle to where I was sitting.

Maybe he had seen me at the station, liked what he saw, and sat in that seat so he could take a better look. Maybe it was pure chance. Anyway, having settled myself I did my usual trick of getting out a book and pretending to read, then checking reflections in windows and all the stuff I had got into the habit of doing. There didn't seem to be any takers that day but then I somehow sensed someone was looking at me. You know that feeling you get on the back of your neck sometimes? Anyway, something made me look up, and I saw that this man seemed to be, he seemed to be staring straight down at my legs.

Not wanting to get caught looking at him I quickly dropped my eyes back down at my book. But of course I needed to be sure that he was really doing what I thought he was, not just unconsciously looking in that direction. So after a minute or so I quickly glanced up again, he was still looking at me.

Then I did something I'd not done before, while pretending to make myself more comfortable I managed to tug my skirt even higher and shift my legs further apart. But having done that it was a little while before I dared check to see if he had seen what I'd done, and when I did finally pluck up courage I still did it very slowly, very carefully. At first letting my eyes drift up the page of my book, then at first just glancing over the top edge.

I needed a few moments to pluck up the courage to look right up, to his face, to see where his eyes were focussed, and during those moments all I could actually see were his legs. But then I realised I could see something else, clearly outlined through the material covering one of his thighs was what I felt sure was his erection.

My reaction was completely different to what I had experienced before, then, when I thought someone was looking at me the feeling had sort of slowly crept up on me. But seeing him like that, excited, and presumably so by what he was seeing, brought on an instantaneous reaction. I felt a sudden surging flush deep inside me, then felt it spreading up and out through the rest of my body.

But I still had to be sure, so glanced up and saw I had been right, he was staring at me, intently, and I could also see that his face had become a bit flushed too.

Then he must have sensed the same thing I had, sensed he was being watched, and his eyes looked up into mine. He grinned, and in that instant I knew that he knew that what I had done had not been accidental. Then he dropped his hand, and I found myself watching him quite deliberately moving his stiffened penis up and down against his leg.

I can't tell you how excited that made me feel, I was fever hot, my insides seemed to suddenly turn to jelly, and I could feel that my friend had suddenly become sopping wet. I sat there quivering as I watched him moving his long, apparently rock hard penis up and down. Part of me wishing it was my hand that was doing that. Part of me wishing I could actually see it, see what it really looked like. But most all just thrilled by thought it had been looking at me that had done that to him.

I was mesmerised, but for some reason I suddenly panicked, and even though it wasn't my grandmother's station I got off at the next one and fled straight into the women's lavatory, slamming the cubicle door behind me and leaning against the wall as I panted for breath. But in spite of the scare I had given myself the effect of what had happened was still going on, my friend was demanding attention and when I checked I found the crotch of my knickers was absolutely soaking wet.

I did it to myself, actually I had to do it twice in fairly quick succession before I had calmed down enough to go out and wait for the next train.' she added before stopping to take a drink from her glass.

While she had been telling me her story I had been trying to picture the young Hanna. No doubt tall for her age, her hair probably longer, perhaps worn in two plaits that fell down her back. Her body slim but starting to show the feminine curves that would soon develop into such exciting beauty. Her school uniform stretched tight by her youthful breasts and hips, and short enough to show off a tantalising length of leg.

I could well understand the young man finding a seat where he could get a better look at her, and his quite natural reaction to what she did. I knew from my own response to one or two similar experiences that being able to see what he probably could would have given me an erection too. At the same time I felt a sudden surge of mixed emotions, envy, coupled with jealousy. Envy of his opportunity to see what he had, and jealousy that it had been Hanna's body that had aroused him.

But I only had to put up with those feelings for a few moments because having put down her glass, Hanna continued her story. 'So having got over the scare I had given myself I realised my experiment had proved even more successful than I could have hoped it would be. I had discovered something important about myself, something about the woman I would very soon be.'

'It seems to me that we were made for each other Hanna.' I said softly as she then lay quietly beside me.

'Pardon? Sorry, I was still remembering those times Mac. What did you say?'

'I said from what you have told me it would seem that we were made for each other. I get excited by looking, you do from being looked at. A perfect match.'

She smiled. 'Yes, that occurred to me when you were first telling me your story.'

'Really?'

'Mmm, but then as I thought it must be too good to be true I expected there would be a catch somewhere, that you would turn out to have some flaw, some shortcoming that would spoil everything else about you.'

'Maybe there is.'

'Maybe, but I hope not Mac.' she said as she rolled on to her side and slid her arms around me.

Although the feel of her firm, but silky softness pressing against me was thrilling I felt sure I wouldn't be able to perform again quite that quickly, so really just to give myself a little more recovery time, I said. 'You said you were going to tell me something about that girl, the second one?'

'Louise, you want me too?'

'Only whatever you feel free to say, I certainly don't want to pry into private matters.'

'Oh in Louise's case very little is private, in fact I have to be very careful what roles I ask her to play. I really don't know what she'd do to some of our clients if I gave her a free rein.'

'In what way?'

'Well she's fully bi-sexual and, well I suppose voracious is the only word to describe her appetite. But the really dangerous part is her love of power, sexual power I mean. She gets her strongest kicks from knowing she has completely dominated whomever she has targeted. She'll do whatever she thinks is necessary to satisfy them, but in doing so makes sure she has totally hooked them to her. As I said, I think she could actually be quite dangerous.'

'She sounds a handful.'

'That's putting it mildly Mac, but it also makes her a great performer for us if she is kept under control. She'll do virtually anything we ask, especially if she thinks there is a chance of the client becoming besotted with her.'

'Well she's certainly attractive and what she did for me was definitely stimulating, but I didn't feel myself getting besotted.'

She laughed softly. 'Oh I wouldn't have used her for your show if I thought there was a risk of that Mac. What she did for you was just an encore, her main play had been a couple of hours earlier, for another client. He likes school-girls.' she added cryptically.

'Is that why she was fully shaved?'

'No, she's always done that, did you find it exciting?'

'In a way, yes, but I'm not sure why.'

'The hint of the exotic, the forbidden, virginal youthfulness?'

'Mmm, maybe all that.'

'Louise certainly thinks so, and it does make it easier for her to take on little girl roles for us.'

'You get such requests often?'

'Quite a few, yes. I'm happy to do that for clients, apart from anything else I think that if we are satisfying that need then the men aren't out looking for real school-girls.'

'But isn't that craving actually a power thing? I didn't think it was just the age of the girl that was important to those men, that it was more about the sense of power it gives them. Like rape not really being about sexual gratification.'

'I think that's true in a lot of cases, but with many men there are other things going on as well. Something new, different, and as I mentioned, the exotic, or forbidden. Any and all of those things can be powerful turn-ons for most men Mac. Even you I suspect. If you are totally honest with yourself I'm sure you would have to admit that the thought of having some pretty young girl handling your penis could be exciting. Couldn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

'Of course so, it's perfectly natural, evolution has made that an integral part of what being a male is. It's just one aspect of the primal urge to ensure your genes are spread as widely as possible. It is only the development of a social order that has imposed restrictions on you. And because of that, and in spite of all the benefits a male dominated civilisation has given you, I think that at a subconscious level it must be much harder to be a man than it is to be a woman. You constantly have to deal with the conflict between the biological drive to spread your genes, and yet also try to conform to society's regulations.

And it's that very conflict that Louise uses to gain her power.'

'What sort of things does she do?'

'Oh anything, and I mean anything. From teasing men by letting them catch glimpses of what she's got, all the way through to the most perverted activity you could imagine.'