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The First of Many Ch. 09

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I was working in my office, at home, as I did on most Fridays, congratulating myself for getting all of my ‘stuff’ done, and ready for the mail. I was just finishing with my reward to myself, rolling a doobie, when my office line rang.

“Hey baby,” I heard from Ree, “Is there a snowball’s chance in hell that you could run out to the airport and pick up Harri?”

“Yeah, I suppose I could, but why, what’s up?”

“The flight’s been cancelled and rescheduled for tomorrow morning, something about mechanical issues or some crap like that,” she said, “I suppose I should cancel my thing tonight, huh?”

“Not if you don’t want to; I’ll just tell Harri that you’ll be late because you’re working on a project, after hours, with one of your assistants,” I replied.

“Oooh, that’s so sweet of you. So, you don’t mind keeping Harri company? I shouldn’t be too long, probably not later than ten or so,” she cooed, clearly happy that I took the decision making out of her hands.

Ree’s ‘project’ was really a ‘date’ she had made, earlier in the week, to go over to Lori’s for dinner and drinks. Lori was an assistant to Ree, on the job, and off the job, she was one of our frequent playmates in bed, though sometimes, like tonight, she and Ree liked to get together for a girl on girl session. That’s what was planned for tonight.

‘Harri’ was really Harriet, one of Ree’s cousins from back home. Harri had spent the previous weekend with us, and then, meeting some of her schoolmates from college on Monday, they had all gone to the mountains for some spring skiing. Harri had left a day earlier than her friends because of some family stuff back home she was to attend. Guess that would be out for Harri now, and she’d be with her friends, after all, on the flight tomorrow.

I liked Harri, liked her a lot. She had a dry sense of humor to go with her ‘geekness’, she being somewhat of a genius and at nineteen, already a senior in college, having graduated early from high school. She was rail thin, not in the super-model-bones-poking-out manner, but thin; boobs that barely gave her chest definition, and she probably had to eat a gallon of ice cream to hit 105 lbs on a scale. She and I bantered with each other constantly, always teasing, always trying to ‘get’ the other in a gaff or something.

I had taken my doobie with me to enjoy while I made the thirty minute drive to pick up Harri, she waiting for me on the lower level of the airport, near baggage claim. I put the half-smoked joint in the ashtray of my car as I entered the airport system, and dodging busses and vans, managed to find Harri, amid the chaos of spring-break traffic and all.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” she said to me, limping towards my car, with her luggage being pulled behind her.

“I’ll get your bag, get in the car,” I said, lifting her bag and throwing it in the backseat.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” I asked as I pulled out into traffic.

“Legs” she corrected, buckling up. “I fell several times too many and I am so damned sore,” she laughingly said, grimacing a bit as she said it.

“And thus,” I said to her, “You now know why I stopped skiing a couple of years ago.”

I paid the toll to get out of the airport, and as I merged with the traffic for the drive home, I saw Harri reaching towards my ashtray. Before I could close it, she snatched up the half-smoked joint, and, laughing, she cried out to me, “Busted!”

“I didn’t know you guys smoked, at least I assume that Ree smokes also?” she said, still laughing, looking around the catch-all tray.

“Yeah, we’re busted. Arrest cebeci escort me,” I said, my face feeling flushed. Not from being busted, but from not paying attention, the small stone I had going, responsible for my carelessness. Hell, I was lucky, what if that had been my boss? You really need to pay attention, asshole, I said to myself. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

“What are you looking for, Harri,” I asked her as she started moving stuff around in the catch tray.

“What do you think? I’m looking for your lighter, so I can fire this bad-boy up!”

Now, it was my turn to laugh at her.

“Really, you smoke?”

“Lots of things I do that people wouldn’t think I did,” she replied, cagily, but not offering up any further explanation of the statement.

I reached into my pocket, and fished out my lighter, handing it over to her. She took it, fired up the doob, after ducking out of sight, took a huge hit and sitting back up, she handed it over to me.

“Oooh, that’ll make my legs hurt less,” she said as she took in her hit.

I hit it and handed it back to her, and told her to finish it, that I had already done half of it and wasn’t feeling any pain. She finished it in two more hits, and handed me the roach to eat, cranking up the Eagles CD that was playing as she did so. She settled back into her seat, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the stone and the music for the rest of the ride home.

Watching her walk slowly into the house while I carried her bag, I really felt bad for her, knowing the pain she was feeling. I put her bag into the guest room, and told her of Ree’s ‘project’ but that she’d be home around ten or so.

“That’s Okay, I’m really looking forward to just doing a whole lot of nothing, just kicking back, letting my body rest,” Harri said to me, “and, maybe, just maybe if you’ll let me, smoke some of your weed with you?” playfully batting her eyelashes with her hands in a mock praying pose.

I couldn’t help but laugh with her, and said, “Not a problem, Harri, not a problem at all.”

I whipped up a quick stir-fry meal for us while she showered and she joined me in the breakfast nook, dressed in a long, flowing, nightshirt screaming allegiance to the Rolling Stones, Mick’s big lips and tongue prominently displayed on the front of the shapeless frock.

She helped me clean up, not that there was much to do, and talked with me at the nook’s table as I cleaned some fresh weed and rolled us a couple of ‘social doobies’, not too fat, not too skinny, but just right. She talked of school, of deadlines, of the offers she had for graduate schools, all on full-ride, mind you. She asked my advice on schools, and expressed her personal preference, at the moment, which turned out to be Alabama. Why? Because they offered her a teaching assistantship as well, in her field of study, and she really wanted to do that.

“I’m going downstairs to watch a movie and smoke some dope,” I said to her, standing, “and you’re more than welcome to join me, if you’d like.”

“I’ll follow your weed anywhere,” she said, standing and chuckling as she did.

The stairs had to have been uncomfortable for her, God knows they were for me when I had ‘ski legs’, I thought. We settled in on the couch, on opposite ends, she, semi-reclining on one of the arms. I fired up one of the joints, and we passed it back and forth as the movie played on, letting the smoke take us to that ‘happy place’. I noticed that Harri kept moving her legs around, much like in the commercials one sees about ‘restless leg syndrome’.

“Can’t get comfortable?” I asked, looking cebeci escort bayan at her.

“Cramps, I can’t get them to stop,” she said.

“Scoot down and stretch out your legs,” I told her. She did as asked, laying her head on the arm of the couch, the heels of both feet, on my thigh. I started gently rubbing her lower legs, kneading the backs of them, over her nightgown, of course. Her calves had ‘knots’ in them when I started but, slowly, the knots relaxed, the tension releasing, her face becoming more and more relaxed as I watched the movie with her, almost mindlessly now, just rubbing and massaging.

“Oh no, don’t stop,” she said, softly, when I quit the massaging, “do my thighs now, please, pretty please?” she pleaded.

And so I did, again on top of her nightgown and, sure enough, they too, had knots in them, but soon relaxed under my kneading her thigh muscles. I had to reach under her to do the back of her thighs but she scooted further down the couch, bending her knees so I could do the back of her thighs, keeping her feet on my thigh. When she bent her knees, the nightgown fell away, giving me a quick flash of her bare-naked pussy. Her eyes were closed, her face clearly relaxed, or stoned, or both. She made no move to gather her nightshirt under her, to cover herself, and I looked away but kept massaging her thighs.

Again, I stopped, and again, she asked me not to. She had opened her eyes now and just looked at me, languidly, a small smile on her lips.

“That’s really helping,” she said, “and that weed didn’t hurt either,” she said, with a slight giggle. Then, reaching for my hand, she pulled herself into a sitting position, crossing her legs in front of her, facing me, not the TV. She pulled her nightshirt from underneath her, over her knees, to about mid-thigh, her bush clearly visible to me.

“Let’s finish the other one,” she said, laying her head on the back of the couch.

And we did, we took our time but we finished it, putting a mellow exclamation point on the moment. I was leaning back, with my head on the couch, stoned out of my gourd when I became aware of Harri grabbing my right hand, placing it on her upper thigh, under her nightshirt, inches away from her crotch. With her hand on top of mine, she started moving them is light, stroking movements, moving our hands closer to her mons.

“Just like that, that feels so good,” the words softly escaping her mouth.

“Harri,” I stammered, “we can’t, we better not,” but, she shushed me with a finger to my lips, and laying her head and body down onto the couch, she slowly pulled up her nightshirt until it rested, gathered, around her waist.

I was staring into her eyes, her pussy clearly visible now, even to a blind man. She held my eyes, and pulling me by the hand that, now, lay in the crook of her leg and hip; she pulled me until my head started to move as well, her other hand on the back of my neck, guiding me towards her crotch, her eyes and lips in a welcoming smile.

Should I have stopped it right then and there? Without question, I should have, her being my wife’s family and all, never mind that she twenty years younger than me.

Could I have stopped myself? Obviously, I couldn’t, and didn’t. The smells of soap, still fresh in the pubes, were assailing my senses. That and the unmistakable smell from a pussy in heat, that pungent and sweet smell we all know so well. And, in the end, I allowed her to guide my willing head until my mouth touched her pubes, and releasing her hand from my neck, I needed no further guidance. I knew exactly what escort cebeci she wanted me to do, and I did, enjoying every second of it.

Taking my time, I slowly explored her pussy with my mouth and tongue; sucking on her clitoris, then flicking it with my tongue, slipping my tongue between her pussy lips, her hands now on the back of my head, fingers playing with my hair, hands holding my head in place as her hips slowly moved in rhythm with my oral attention.

Her breath became deeper, shorter, more excited as I became totally enraptured by what was going on between us. Slowly, but surely, her climax kept building until, feeling her thrusting her hips and pelvis up to meet my mouth, she came. A long, long climax, one that had her moaning, a soft, contented moan, her grinding against my mouth, slowly ending, her body melting as the tenseness of the orgasm left her body.

“Harri,” I began to say to her, “I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry.”

“Sshhh,” she said as she rubbed her hands over my head, her fingertips stroking my cheek as my head lay on her thigh.

“I’m not,” she said, “There is nothing about what just happened that I’m sorry about. I should be sorry because you’re Ree’s husband, but even though I should be, I’m not,” her fingers now softly caressing my face.

Moving to sit up, she pulled herself to a sitting position with me, cupping her hands behind my neck, allowing me to pull her along. On her knees, now, next to me on the couch, she gave me a slow, sweet kiss. No tongue, just warm, wet lips touching, tasting.

She reached down with a hand as we kissed, unzipping me, reaching in and freeing my dick, her hand slowly squeezing my hardness. Wordlessly, she broke off the kiss and lay across my thighs, her back to the TV, facing me, both of her hands, now, guiding my cock towards her mouth, as she settled in across my lap.

It must be in the genes. Ree and Harri’s moms are sisters, and those genes are common between them. I have repeatedly bragged about Ree’s exceptional cocksucking talents. But had I been blindfolded, and not known it was Harri licking and sucking on me, I would have thought it was Ree. Honest to God, I would have.

She took her time, very obviously having done this before to some lucky young man, or men, somewhere in her life. She was able to fit half of my length into her mouth but it was certainly enough, more than enough, to get the job done.

“Harri, I’m going to come,” warning her, wanting her to pull her mouth off before I did.

She did pull her mouth off of my dick, but only long enough to say, “I sure hope so, that’s what I’m trying to get you to do,” dropping her head and swallowing my cock again, immediately after saying it.

I did, for what seemed like an eternity, feeling like I spewed a gallon in wonderful spasms of release. And like her cousin, Ree, she took a deliciously long time licking it afterwards.

Harri looked up at me, my cock still in her hand, and matter-of-factly, said, “This stays between us, forever, never to be spoken of, agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, but hating that I said it.

I had never, ever, not told Ree of sexual encounters and, this, was ‘going against the grain’. I wrestled with that decision for weeks, but, in the end, I realized that to say anything about it to Ree would only cause her serious family issues if she ever confronted Harri about it. I didn’t think she ever would, but, why take the chance? So, I kept my silence, even after our divorce, never, ever, feeling good about doing so.

And it has, until now, never been spoken of, after that night.

Epilogue

Harri had her Ph.D. by the time she was 23, not a record but a worthy accomplishment for that age. She’s married, has 3 kids, and is a Department Head for a well-known, Midwestern University. We exchange Christmas Cards to this day, and I’m thrilled for her, for where she is in life.

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