He still hadn’t gotten used to their constant loud sex, even after living with it for the last four months or so. Since Thanksgiving when they’d worked out whatever problems had come up, they’d been going at it non-stop. He didn’t know how Chris found the energy between going to class full time, working out, and practicing every spare moment to get ready for the Regional Combines next month.
He was happy for them and all, but fuck. Sometimes Matt just wanted to relax in the living room without crazy monkey sex as the soundtrack to his life. Especially since he wasn’t the one having it.
A loud moan coming through the wall had him downing the last of his beer and heading to his own room. Exhibit A to why he couldn’t wait for this summer and the end of their lease. He could get his own place and not have to listen to his roommates fucking at all hours of the day and night. The worst part was that he couldn’t help getting turned on by the sounds he couldn’t block out.
With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his shirt in his bedroom, grabbing a clean towel and heading to the bathroom. As he waited for the water to warm up, Hannah’s face floated into his mind again. Chin length blonde hair the same color as the wheat fields in the summer, held back by a clip on one side. Green eyes. A cute little nose that turned up at the end. Her hair had been longer before, usually in a ponytail. He’d wrapped it around his hands a few times. God, that summer had been the best.
Now on the opposite side of the house in his bathroom with the water pounding down around him, he couldn’t hear anything from Chris and Megan anymore, and he could let his mind replay his memories of their summer together without interruption. He soaped up more out of habit than necessity, palming his cock, the slippery suds in his hand giving just the right amount of slip. He felt less like a creep jacking it while thinking about an old fling than over the sounds his roommates made in the sack.
He worked himself faster, squeezing harder. “Oh, god.” He couldn’t stop himself from groaning under his breath, imagining Hannah’s hands on him. Still as pretty and sweet as he remembered, she had high, full breasts, a trim waist, and an ass that begged to be spanked. Imagining she was stroking him, dropping to her knees to take him between her lush, red lips, more memories of that summer rose up in his mind. Her kneeling on his bed over his reclining form getting ready to wrap those same lush lips around the head of his cock.
His legs trembled and his hips jerked as he came to the memory of Hannah Glover giving him her first blow job the summer he was nineteen. The sweet little virgin who had rocked his world. Not that she was still a virgin by the end of the summer. And man, she’d learned fast.
He’d been captivated by her from the first time he saw her on the beach with her friend while he taught surf lessons at Westhaven State Park. Summer wasn’t the greatest time for surfing in Westport, but after he’d left home to go to Marycliff, he couldn’t go any other time.
Hannah had watched him teach the lesson on the beach with rapt attention, too far away to hear his instructions, but he was aware of her eyes eating up every movement of his wetsuit-clad body, the longing on her face almost painful to see. Her friend, whose name he couldn’t remember now, was less interested, spending more time reading the book she’d brought with her than anything.
He’d passed by the girls when he led his students into the water, and Hannah had caught his eye, holding it until he passed by and she returned to laughing and splashing and playing in the waves. It had been a warm day for June, warm enough to brave the frigid waters of the northern Pacific to cool off after spending time in the sun. After stashing his surfboard and peeling down the top of his wetsuit to expose his upper body to the sun, Hannah had approached him before he could figure out what to say to her, asking if he taught private surf lessons. He’d invited her to a party that night, and, to his delight, she’d shown up.
By the time he’d found out that she still had a year left of high school and was only a week away from turning eighteen, it was too late, he was already hooked on her. He couldn’t let her go for such a silly reason if he’d tried.
They spent the next two months together until he had to go back to school and she had to go home to finish high school. She’d emailed him after that. He’d responded a few times, but between the distractions of football and school, and the fact that he didn’t know what to say, he put off responding until he realized he hadn’t heard from her in weeks. He’d tried. But everything he wrote sounded stilted and stupid, and with practice and classes, he couldn’t talk on the phone much, and he never knew what to say then either. He did better at face to face communication, especially with relationships. Long distance wasn’t his thing. And it wasn’t like they’d talked much when they were together, anyway. Sure, yes, some, but he much preferred communicating by touch. He still did, truth be told. Too much time spent talking exhausted him. Touch, movement, physical presence were the things he handled best.
He’d convinced himself that she’d
