My quest began with a desire to find Sarah. I'd like to say I'd been haunted by her, that I was driven by some romantic notion like that. The truth was that she was the best screw I'd ever had, and I was completely hooked on her. Not only did I worry I'd never find her again, but I was sure no girl I'd ever meet in my life would be as fantastic as she'd been. I knew I had it bad, but how true that was I didn't realize when I set out.
To give some idea of what I was chasing I should go back to when we were together. I could tell you the details about how we met, and where we went, and why we laughed in each other's company, but that's not really what it was about. That's not what was important to her, either.
Sarah wasn't passive in her love play. I'd never been with a woman like that. I didn't know there were any. I might have realized she was different when I first saw her disrobe, the night after we met at a show. Beneath her sweater and jeans she had on clothing that first appeared to be gym wear, but when fully revealed it took on a decidedly masculine flavor. Full strawberry blond hair fell past her breasts, which were sealed in a red sports bra, and that was covered by a midriff-baring charcoal t-shirt with its sleeves cut out. Her skin was deathly pale, but her limbs were shapely strong, the build a sculpture by countless hours spent on a lacrosse field. Beautiful as she was, what drew my attention away from her youth, health, and urgency were the men's boxer briefs she wore, form-fitting black for the most part, gray elastic at the waist and thighs. Piercing dark eyes eventually roused me from the spell cast by her image. We entangled on her bed.
With us both naked I climbed to the missionary position, hands on the sheet at her neck, straight arms supporting the breadth of my back above her, hips striking her waiting sex. My legs were bent with the toes of both legs touching behind me, and her influence crept up this mount like a tide.
It was clear she liked being fucked. Excitement contorted her face and sharpened her breathing. It wasn't her goal, though, to receive. She gently clasped my upper arms, as a movie director would frame a shot in a film. Even as I focused on my piston in and out of her, legs slowly folded over my thighs and toes slid under my ankles with the subtlety of a master wrestler setting a choke hold. Before long I couldn't avoid the feeling of being carried by the girl whose form I was pinning. I was lulled into inaction as if by a fear of being dropped, lost momentum, and became suppliant of her will.
She kissed my right earlobe while straddling me, hands clutching the bedspread by my head. Again a prison was crafted without force, the right shoulder hushing my mouth and soles cushioning the sides of my calves. Thrust slowly crested at the center of her back, which undulated atop me to define her range of movement. Her shoulders and pelvis traded the raised position with the middle of her spine for a few seconds. Then, raising herself a few inches on her elbows, she slid her left hand away on the wrinkled bedding, and transferred vigor completely to her hips.
Eyes closed tight, panting in time with every mighty swell, Sarah used my body to sway the mattress. I lay supine, every muscle stiff as I politely tried to let my hands ride her midsection. Her head at mine as if to whisper in my ear she bounced as much up and down as to and fro, establishing a rhythm that would express her desire. Remaining intense, the lunging became entirely horizontal, subsuming her toned physique in a single dimension of movement. From then her hips lapped savagely onto mine, and maintaining this form with no evident effort she steadily increased the rate. Gasps escaped me, coalesced into moans, fell on deaf ears: she was relentless. Propelled by the powerful contractions of her firm, round buttocks, the pumping harshly scrubbed away her awareness of the world, leaving determination and tenacity that were totally mechanical. Her churning became the mindless thumping of a washing machine as she used my body to vibrate herself into oblivion.
"Oh... Whoa..." it began, as the headboard started tapping the wall like a concerned friend. Momentarily returning to self-awareness I thrilled at the humiliation of residents hearing me pounded into senselessness by their pretty, demure neighbor. I wondered if I was only the latest in a long line of victims to her lust. "Uh... UH!!!" she continued. I wouldn't have stopped her even if it were possible. "UHH!!!" was cried into my neck. "Oh!" she yelled as if surprised, "Uh!" and the wooden backing now hammered the sheet rock apace. "Uh, uh," she moaned, quieting, and the other noises subsided also with her speed. My manhood was wrung out inside her, and I huffed, sighed, and shuddered. Climax was celebrated with her hands kneading the bed like cat paws until becoming fists. The last wave traveled up and down the length of her trunk three times until dissipated.
Eventually she planted one fist on the bed, the other, then pushed with them, and was sitting. Our hands folded on my abdomen, and she rode me again. At the end, she showed her strange tendency to bind with gesture by resting the tops of her feet on the insides of my opened thighs and clutching my pectorals in her hands as though they were a woman's breasts. Each downward, forward drive of her vulva cranked my shaft up. After I came she lifted herself off so my member could flail wildly in ecstasy. Sarah grabbed my hair to lower my head to the pillow, and kissed me.
When we fell out of contact, I made no attempt to find her. We didn't have any understanding about our relationship, spoken or otherwise. I just feared losing the physical delights of it by suddenly appearing clingy. That can scare people away. It was only after a month had passed without seeing her that I ran into her roommate, Celeste, at a coffee shop.
Celeste was the sort of lesbian who looks like a skinny prince. She had short, dark hair; wore a tight knit hat; was wrapped in a long, thin scarf; and had on a puffy coat, jeans and boots. I was told that Sarah had been forced to leave town, and would possibly never be back. While we spoke her eyes darted this way and that, and showed that this girl was also being hounded; maybe by the same danger that had driven away her roommate. Celeste would have been easy to spook. Sarah on the other hand had tremendous courage, and as I well knew, great strength. Something was seriously wrong, but once more I felt excluded by the coldly sensual nature of the routine we'd had. No inquiry was made then into how I might help my old lover.
Maybe I lied before. There must have been a dash of romance in my search, or I wouldn't have waited until the odds of succeeding had dwindled to nothing, before looking in earnest. With my one lead passed up, I deliberately sought out Celeste two weeks after crossing her path, determined to make her divulge Sarah's location. That didn't prove easy. I had to revisit groups of friends I'd neglected in favor of sexual romps. Few people could place Celeste, let alone tell me where Sarah might have been. One night after a rock show I struck gold: a buddy who had become the band's roadie knew some bikers renting the apartment over their clubhouse to one of the people I'd been looking for. He gave me their address.
As one might imagine, the place was less than welcoming, even in light of day. It was a hideout, and company wouldn't be wanted. Proceeding carefully was a necessity. I stepped over a passed out bum, and climbed the stairs on the side of the building. At the top, I knocked at the residence.
"Who is it?" came a frightened voice from within, Celeste's.
"It's me, Celeste, Brian. Open up."
"Brian?" I heard her mumble in confusion as the chain was undone. Squinting at the light, she scanned me, and the surrounding area, finally granting admittance. Once I was in the bolts were slid into place behind me. "What are you doing here? How did you find it?"
"That guy Spacer told me, the one from the tantra class. I'm looking for Sarah." Fear seized her.
"What for?" Somehow I wasn't prepared for the question. I shuffled my feet and looked at the carpet.
"I... I want her back." Instantly her anxiety was transmuted into laughter.
