Chapter 1.
With a quick grunt by both, his cock slid inside of her. He lay on top of her, her legs spread wide, welcoming him. He supported himself on his elbows, then lowered his face beside hers into one of the pillows. Slowly, he began thrusting inside of her. Automatically and without passion, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, meeting his thrusts and grunts. She opened her eyes, keeping them unfocused on the ceiling. His cock felt OK inside of her, but...something was off.
"Oh, fuck me, baby," she moaned, trying to send a jolt of electricity between them.
He grunted in return, mumbling, "Don't talk...just...don't talk..."
His pace quickened, then he stiffened and let out another grunt as his cock erupted inside of her. Without a word, he rolled off her and quickly fell into a snoring.
She continued staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused.
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She awoke with a start, letting out a sharp gasp.
She opened her eyes, looking around the room. It seemed...unfamiliar. It was her room, but the few possessions did not seem familiar. The table lamp, the bed, the dresser, the mirror, and even the carpet did not seem right.
Smell. She knew that encouraged the senses. She pulled the floral blankets up to her and inhaled. They smelled freshly washed, but she did not remember doing laundry recently. So much for that.
Moving her arms and legs around, she explored the bed with her sense of touch. She was by herself. She searched her memory. Had there not been a man last night? The rest of the sheets felt cool; there was no sign that the weight of another body had lay on the mattress. She mentally shook her head. Was he a dream?
She stretched again, then pulled herself to the edge of the bed. On the other side of the room, a full-length mirror hung. Her reflection stared back at her. Her short dark hair was messy, and the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants were unkempt. She gave them both a sniff. They had also recently been washed. Someone was doing the laundry; she could not remember if it was her.
With another full-body stretch, she climbed from the bed and stood up, reaching the ceiling with her arms to chase the fatigue from her body. She rubbed her feet on the soft shag carpet, the threads tickling her soul. She was unsure if she had slept well before, her memory still a fuzz. She did not remember waking up in the middle of the night when the man had left.
He had fallen asleep there, right? she asked herself.
She nodded to herself. Yes, she could still hear his snores. Then she remembered lying down, staring at the ceiling. She did not remember falling asleep, and she did not remember the man getting out of bed and leaving.
With a loud exhale, she went into the bathroom. It was a clean bathroom, almost spotless. Again, she did not remember cleaning it, but she would have done an excellent job if she had. The soft blue walls reflected the sunlight perfectly as she grabbed a toothbrush and brushed her teeth. She still could not shake the fuzz out of her mind. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing an unfamiliar face looking back at her. How could her face look so unfamiliar, she wondered to herself.
She squinted at herself as she brushed, her dark eyes exploring her face. She was delighted with the face which looked back at her. She found some of the morning, sleepy fuzz lifting from her mind, but she still could not remember the simple things as she searched for her memories. Who was the man there last night? What was his name? Were they a thing? She tried to remember other things about her life. What city did she live in? Where had she been born? Did she have brothers? Sisters? Who were her friends? Where did she work? She was not sure she could even remember her damn name!
Sandy! That was it! Right? Yes, it was Sandy. Or at least something like that. Then she settled on it as she spit the toothpaste out and rinsed her mouth. Her name was Sandy—or at least something like that. Good grief, her mind was a fog.
With another yawn, she began undressing for her shower. After hanging her clothes on a hook on the door, she paused at the full-length bathroom mirror to study her naked body. She put her hands on her hips and nodded, looking herself over as if for the first time.
She was happy with the image the mirror reflected. She could see that she was fit but with curves in all the right places. Her breasts were nice, firm - solid Cs, if she had to guess. Why did she have to think, she wondered to herself. It seems like something she should have known. She pursed her lips and nodded to herself as she found that her vagina was fully shaven - once again, this was something that should not have been a surprise, but it seemed like another mystery unwrapped. Biting her lower lip, she slid a finger into herself and pulled it out, examining it. No cum. Would a man's cum still be inside her the morning after, she wondered. She opened and closed her mouth as if trying to catch answers with her lips, the frustration at not knowing the simple things building. She let out another sigh and shook her head. She knew she could not get pregnant - that was one thing she did know for sure!
Sandy swiveled and twisted her head to get a look at her butt. She found it friendly and firm, nice and round. Finally, she began slowly turning on the floor, trying to look at her body as a whole. Sandy discovered she had no unique markings or tattoos. She found herself pretty enough - but everything seemed "there," plain, not so exceptional.
With another long-drawn-out sigh, she shook her head and climbed into the shower.
Chapter 2.
The rest of the day flew by. She barely remembered what she had done. Everything seemed a blur. After an unmemorable, unremarkable, and unfulfilling job, she ran a few miles—she recalled that she loved to run. She silently cursed herself as she climbed into the shower again that day for wasting water.
That evening, she sat on her back porch, watching the sun go down. She tried to collect her thoughts and knowledge. She still knew nothing about herself—well, hardly anything. She had a house; she had a porch. It sat atop a small steep hill, an apartment complex down below, with the back of the five-story building facing her backyard. The red-bricked building was close enough to see many windows facing her, enabling her to watch the people going about their daily lives.
She watched them this evening as she sipped her tea. There was the single guy, the single girl, the girl roomies, the male roomies, the couple.
Her interactions with them were few. Sometimes, they would call out a hello to her. Sometimes, she would wave to one if they caught each other's eyes. Smiles and nods were exchanged freely, but words rarely were.
Tonight, she watched them all from her porch as she gave her teacup another sip, watching each in their little worlds live their lives. Some read, some watched TV, and some talked to each other. She watched as, one by one, they turned in for the night. The young couple kissed each other quickly, saying good night. The middle-aged couple did the same. The lights were turned off, sinking them into darkness as she wondered if they knew who they were.
With a sigh, she removed her day's clothes and put on her night's clothes, crawling into bed and turning off the light. She stared at the ceiling, her mind running a million miles a minute, unable to sleep.
She slid her hand under the band of her sweatpants, softly running her fingers over her pussy.
Nope. Dry.
She slid her fingers between her lips, exploring.
Nope. Still dry.
With a sigh, she turned on her side to her nightstand, opening it for the tube of lube.
