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How tough can life be for a blonde girl who was the top of her class academically, was twice an all state volleyball champion who also received a full ride to college, and had a loving family? It wasn’t bad, it was great…
Until my sophomore year of college when my parents were taken away by some drunk-assed delivery driver who worked for a major retail chain. Things can go from “perfect” to “world of shit” real fast. Believe me.
And because I was pretty, people saw my looks first. Not to brag, but I have been called “beautiful” and “stunning”. Fair skin, perfect complexion, big brown doe eyes. Even at a young age I looked like a supermodel in training. And train I did. I took fitness and sports very seriously, and academics came easily. Eat your heart out Heidi Klum, I’m younger, smarter, and better looking, and I’m coming for you!
But despite my accomplishments people seemed to underestimate me. I was just another dumb blonde who seduced her way to the top they said. And that made boys, and later men- and a few women- think I was something to be possessed.
The captain of the football team could grab my breasts or ass and I was supposed to like it. I liked it about as much as he liked getting kneed in the balls after I told him to get his dickbeaters off of me and he didn’t.
Or the family man down the street who hired me to babysit his kids. He thought I might like to suck him off after he put his lush of a wife to bed. I didn’t want to do that, and no one but my parents believed me. I wish their 18 year old college freshman nanny would have believed me. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten her pregnant.
But I worked hard. I was a volunteer at Big Brothers/ Big Sisters until…the accident that murdered my parents. Then, I kind of lost myself for a while. About a year anyway. I didn’t study, the University put me on academic probation, and I stopped volunteering. I was kind of a lost, wandering soul. It was easy to do, considering our lawyer got a huge settlement from the companies involved. And, technically, my sister and I now owned part of a major distribution warehouse and a trucking company. My sister and her husband did good in managing things, but I was still empty. Of course I missed our parents, but I missed working with kids. So I started back at college with a renewed vigor and interest in education. My parents had made a big impression and difference, and now I owed it to their legacy to do the same.
Anonymously, if at all possible. They never looked for credit for doing the right thing, and neither would I. But now, thanks to their unintentional sacrifice, I had resources.
The University I attended was pretty forgiving about my lackluster academic performance over the last year. They had a policy to handle “Death of a Parent or Caregiver.” My NCAA volleyball days, however, were over. Too much lost time and the passion was gone. My parents were going back home after watching one of my volleyball matches. The next time after their death that I stepped on the court was my last. I may be strong, tough and a fighter, but even I had my breaking point.
Once I regained my smile and happiness on the outside, I noticed men wanting me. Looking at me, trying to pick me up. It’s not that I was a man-hater, but I think more than anything else I was afraid to get close. What if I got close, and someone took that person away from me again?
My previous experiences with sex were nothing great. I enjoyed having strong arms hold me, pick me up, position me, bend me, grab me, and I am totally being honest, dominate me from time to time. But the actual act always left me disappointed.
It was always about HIS pleasure. When HE was ready, shove it in, thrust, get off, then roll over, leaving me with a mess and a need to finish myself off. If HE wasn’t going to pleasure me, what good was he? If I made him use a condom, it ended up on my floor or in my garbage. Or clogging my toilet. If I let him inside me without one, or it broke, and I got flooded, then I always worried about getting pregnant.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the feel, but not the drama and disappointment. My battery powered friends were more satisfying in the long run than a guy who didn’t seem to care about me or didn’t know or understand me. And my battery powered friends didn’t leave the toilet seat up either. I experimented with another woman once. She knew how to make me feel great, but once again, I was left unfulfilled. So I figured I was always going to be alone. Might as well just started raising cats…
Maybe it would be different once I graduated and left all of this behind- got out of here and started new. And standing between me and graduation was one last semester of college. Eight weeks of student teaching and a final eight weeks of wrap up, whatever that meant.
I got my assigned high school where I would be a student-teacher and be assigned a mentor. The school was in my hometown, but luckily not the one I graduated from. That would have been too difficult.
On my first day, I get ushered into the Principal’s bursa escort office, Dr. Ms. Samantha Jones. We discussed my grades, my desires and ultimately who would be my mentor.
“You are a double major in science and social studies. You can teach either. We may try and work you into both, but because you said you would rather teach history, we will start you in 11th grade U.S. History, taught by Mr. Lowe.” Then she hit a button on her phone console, and spoke to the whole school apparently, “Mr. Lowe, please report to the Principal’s office.”
After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, a man who looked like Robin Williams in “A Night at the Museum” walked in, took off his cavalry glove, and offered his hand to me, “Hello, Theeee-ah-DOOOR Rose-ah-VELT. PLEAH-Sure to meet you. And you are…?”
“Hannah. Hannah Turner, new student teacher,” I managed to get out. I had strange feeling in my stomach. Butterflies? Nervousness, or something else?
“Lovely! Well, unless you and I are both in trouble, I assume you and I are working together.” He asked, “shall we head to the classroom and get started?”
He explained that right before a chapter test he likes to get into character and go over the review. This was his review over the Spanish-American War. So he dressed up as Teddy Roosevelt as a Rough Rider. Something jolted me the way he said “Rough Rider”.
Mr. Lowe taught the review as Teddy. The students responded well. No one slept, nodded off or goofed around. He had their full attention, as well as mine. It was an unorthodox way of teaching, but it worked. Tomorrow was their test, and then the following day I would be expected to write the lesson plan and present the material.
Teaching went well. For The Roaring 20’s chapter, Mr. Lowe dressed up as a gangster and I dressed like a flapper girl, but other than that, there really wasn’t a lot of fun characters for me to choose from. Such was the nature of history-written by men so all the fun parts were male. Not as a complaint, but I did mention this to Mr. Lowe.
“I think you would make an excellent Athena when you discuss Ancient Greece” he told me.
“Why not Aphrodite or Venus?” I asked.
“Well, Venus is Roman, but personally, I have always been partial to Athena” he said.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why would a woman want to be Athena instead of the Goddess of Love?” Seemed like a reasonable question.
“Okay, several things. Athena is strong and wise. She takes no crap. She was partial to Odysseus and he was my favorite character in the Iliad and Odyssey. But I admired her spirit.” He had obviously thought of this before.
“But why NOT Aphrodite?” I was curious if he had an answer.
“Okay, she was a beautiful seductress. But she was never happy. People-gods and mortals alike- wanted to possess her for her beauty, but that’s it. We don’t know a lot about her. Well, that’s not entirely true, there are plenty of myths about her. But how would you rather be thought of- as a beautiful slu-uh, I mean, only for your looks, or as a wise, brave fighter who was loyal to her friends and was noble?”
WOW! That hit close to the mark. In that instant, I knew I was always Aphrodite but longed to be Athena. And my mentor of about 3 weeks by now, in that little exchange taught me more about myself than I knew about myself after 23 years.
I knew at that point I was going to sleep with him. And he was going to marry me. Athena would make sure of that.
I absolutely loved my job, or class, “responsibility” for lack of another word.
I knew I would love this career. I got along well with the other staff, but I just couldn’t quite figure out Mr. Lowe. About the 4th week of working with him, I had to call him to rescue me. It was mid-February and bone-chillingly cold. And my car wouldn’t start. I had a teacher directory and if he couldn’t help me, at least he would know why I was going to be late.
When he answered his phone, I quickly explained my dilemma. “What’s your address? You don’t live too far away, do you? I mean, you’re in town, aren’t you?” He asked.
I gave him my address, and nothing. Just silence. “Hello?” I asked.
“I think we are neighbors. We live in the same complex, different buildings. Tell me which door you will be waiting by, and I will pick you up. Blue Ford Explorer”. I told him which door and then he hung up.
Sure enough, he came from a different part of the complex and picked me up, and we made it to school on time. No one hinted or suggested anything, but I thought Mr. Lowe felt uncomfortable. Later that day after we got home, I said I was going to call the dealership to tow my car in to get it repaired. He said, “Let me take a look. It may be a simple fix.”
“It’s under warranty, THEY can fix it,” I replied.
“Unless you have Triple A you will be forced to pay for the tow anyway. Let me look anyway, give me 5 minutes. By then I will be frozen anyway.”
“You look, then bring my keys up to me. I will have hot chocolate ready,” I offered.
“Deal.”
10 bursa escort bayan minutes later he showed up without my keys. “You had your light switch on, and the battery was dead. I jumped it, it’s running and charging up now. It’s locked and my Explorer is blocking it in. If you have that hot chocolate ready, we’ll drink now and check it in a bit. It should be good then,” he said with confidence.
I was jealous, he jumped my car but not so much as a pass at me yet. I was hoping he would jump me soon…
As we drank our hot chocolate, we talked. He was very professional and private at school, but he was starting to open up and we lost track of time. He told me he had been married, spent 4 years in the Navy, and how he ended up a teacher.
“We got married right out of high school. We both worked. I went to community college and she went to beauty school. It was tough. It got tougher when one of us decided to sleep with other women,” he said.
That was a very personal thing to drop and I didn’t know what to say, but I tried. “She didn’t forgive you when she caught you? Or you realized you could do better?” Seemed like a reasonable question.
“No, SHE started sleeping with a masseuse at beauty school. So my young wife turned lesbian and I was to blame.”
You could reach out and touch the sadness. Okay, maybe not technically, but I could take his hand. Made me feel bad about my experimentation with another woman and how I now wanted-no, NEEDED him and felt he needed me. “I-ah, I, um. I’m sorry? I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. From what I know of you, any woman would be lucky to have a man like you.”
It sounded so cliche, so empty, because that’s what anyone is expected to say in that situation. But I was sincere and he knew it, so he continued. He spent the next 4 years in the navy, got out and took his GI Bill money to school in San Diego until his dad had a stroke and he came home to Iowa to help his mom take care of him. His father passed away, but he stayed close by to help his mom. He really was a good man. Then he asked about my story.
I was afraid to open up since the wounds were all pretty fresh in my mind. I realized I still had his hands, and he spun them over, and ran his thumbs in my palms like some gypsy palm reader.
“You are tough, but broken. You have a dark spot around your soul. No, wait, that’s not true. Your SOUL is fine, it’s your heart. You have been wounded and are afraid to open up and love. When I look at you, I see a strong, tough, young lady, but when I look into those eyes of yours, I see pain. It hurts me to see that. Hopefully you can work it out. You deserve to be happy.”
Okay, just like the “Athena/ Aphrodite” discussion, he knew me better than I seemed to know myself. Did he know that I felt THAT way about him? Decision time. “Come with me. Let’s check on my car and I want to show you something very few people know about me.” This was it, I was going to force the issue. He seemed to be too much of a gentleman to force it himself, and he was right about the wall around my heart. Time to take it down, brick by brick.
My car was fine, so we got in and I drove. 10 or 12 minutes of tension. He, of not knowing where or what; me, of not knowing if I could do what needed to be done, but knowing I had to and would with Mr. Lowe there to help me.
We pulled up in front of an empty house. It had a motion light that came on and the front doorbell light was on, so there was electricity. I dug around in my purse and pulled out a key I hadn’t known if I would ever be able to use again until this moment. I opened the front door, hit the light, and asked him in. He looked around, and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I barely croaked out, “My parents’ place. Where I grew up. Technically it’s mine now. But I can’t live here.”
“So this is the wall around your heart.”
Damn him! He was going to pry it out of me and he was going to make me open up. But bless his heart! He was not going to pull it out like a broken tooth, he was going to let me go at my pace.
I showed him around the house. I laughed and he laughed with me. I also cried, and he held my hand or hugged my shoulder. For the first time in…2 years maybe, I felt…relaxed. Peaceful. Like I was ready to be happy again. Experience closeness with another human.
But I was also tired and as we sat on my parents’ couch, I fell asleep. Next thing I know, I woke up about 2 in the morning in my old high school bedroom! What the hell?!
I went downstairs and Mr. Lowe was asleep on the couch. I shook him awake, “Mr. Lowe, ready to go back home?”
“Call me Dave. And yes, I am ready, but you are home.”
I drove us back to our apartment complex and he walked me to my door. “Dave, thank you for everything. Thank you for fixing my car, and thank you for fixing ME. You cannot understand how much the last few weeks have meant.” I gave him a deep, long hug. And he hugged me back!
A few hours later at work, things were different between us. He treated me more like a friend escort bursa than our student/ mentor relationship had warranted. He asked about supper. “I had a roast in the crockpot yesterday. I made barbecued beef today. Does that interest you?”
“Yes! What can I bring for a side or dessert?” I asked.
“Surprise me,” he said.
I stopped at the grocery store and bought a pie and 7 layer salad. And a bottle of wine. I normally would have made both foods but wanted more time to look my best. I showered, shaved my bikini area and legs, and tried to look like a 10 without looking like I tried. He noticed right away. “You look amazing!” He exclaimed. “If I had known you were going to look fantastic, I would have put on a sportcoat anyway.”
For once, a guy noticed my looks and seemed to desire me for more than just my looks, and I was ecstatic. These little panties were not going to last…
We ate, we drank a glass of wine, and we moved to his couch. I touched his arm and put my head on his shoulder as we talked. He touched my leg. I touched his. His hand went higher, eventually it was under my skirt. I undid his belt and zipper. My skirt hit the floor, and there I was in tiny panties that were soaked, and garters and stockings. He stopped. He started to say something, then stopped. He managed to get out, “WOW! You look like an angel. You are absolutely gorgeous.”
He looked at me with a lust I have seen before in other mens’ eyes, but I appreciated it this time. I wanted him to lust after me but I need this man to love me. I let him look, pushed him down on the floor, pulled his cock out and started to play with it. Then I took him into my mouth. He started to finger me, and I slid my body around and placed my pussy above his hungry mouth. He started to lick me as I went to town on him and we both orgasmed at the same time. As we lay there in that position, me still on top of him, both breathing heavily, he panted, “Are you okay?”
“Oh god, I have never felt better. I needed that but I still need you,” I said, almost begged.
He picked up on that, an then he picked me up and carried me into his bedroom. He placed me on the bed and fully undressed himself. And then he took my clothes off. He rubbed my body, he touched me, mapping out all of my erogenous zones. He placed one, then two fingers inside me. He worked them in and out, stretching me a bit. God that felt good! I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. My blood pressure and body temperature were rising. My heart rate and breathing were both going faster and faster. I had a fever and the only medicine to fix me was this older man giving me all he was worth! I didn’t care that I was currently not on the pill, that I haven’t had anything but a battery powered silicone dick inside of me in a couple years. I needed him inside me. I needed to feel him. And, I hoped, he would get me pregnant. That hadn’t been my intention when I came over here, but I felt like I needed it now. Maybe it was all the hormones talking, but I…
“Aaahhh ooohhhh god! That feels f-f-fantast- ugh, oh god, soooo good!” as he penetated me with his war club. It had felt good in my mouth, but it felt so fantastic and huge in my pussy. He was stretching me, but being very gentle. The friction we created, the warmth, the places he touched had me on the verge almost immediately. “Dave, don-t stop, I’m c-c-umming! OOOOOHHHHH. AAAAHHHHH GOD!” I screamed! My body convulsed as electric jolts of pure orgasmic bliss started at my toes and shot put through my eyeballs. Then my eyes rolled back. I thought I might faint. I think I would have if Dave had not repositioned himself up on his knees and pinned my knees up by my ears. Then he jackhammered my pussy like it had never been fucked before. “Oh god, Dave! That’s it. Fuck me! Own my pussy and cum in me! Fill me up!”
I have never talked like that, but here I was, asking a guy to own and dominate me. And I couldn’t have been happier for it. I only hoped he was enjoying it as much as I was. Hell, I was having the time of my life. If he was enjoying it half as much as I was, he was still in heaven.
“Oh god, Hannah, I’m gonna cum! Oh god…oh, uh…”
“Cum in me Dave! I need to feel you…”
EXPLOSION! And another and several more. He kept pumping me full until he went semi-soft. I had our shared cum leaking out of me. He had cum in my mouth not that long before, but he had so thoroughly filled my pussy with cum I couldn’t contain it. He rolled over and I snuggled up to him. We just listened to each other breathe. Eventually he asked if I needed a shower. “Only if you will rub my back,” I answered.
We went into his shower, which was just like mine, and not meant for two people. His cock was hard again and it kept rubbing on my ass. I wasn’t ready for that yet, but my pussy was ready again. I got out of the shower, put my hands on the sink, and spread my legs, presenting my backside and pussy to him. He rubbed his cock up and down my buttcrack, but finally found my lips. He stroked in and out of my lips but not entering my pussy deeply. Finally, he sank it in. He thrust and thrust, and eventually turned me around so he could look at me as we connected at our midsections. The third time he filled me, it wasn’t near as much, and my orgasm wasn’t as great either. But I am not complaining.
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