Simply Sara

by Robin Pentecost

This story is � 2004 by Robin Pentecost and may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author. Visitors to this web site may read or temporarily download chapters but are not permitted to modify or re-distribute them. Please address requests or comments to [email protected].

The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please exit this site immediately.

Chapter 5

Now it was morning - afternoon - and Sara shivered, thinking of the incredible night she had spent. She began to take stock of herself, now that it was over.

      She felt well. She wasn't particularly sore or injured in any way. Physically, she really felt better than usual. In fact, she felt great.

      She threw the covers off and went naked, first to the kitchen, starting coffee, and then to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face, framed by the ferns and plants she grew in the moistness, looked relaxed, and when she smiled inadvertently, she really looked terrific by her standards. To anyone else, she would have appeared radiant.

      No marks on her body, although her breasts looked a little red around the nipples. She turned, but could see no marks on her back or on her buttocks. Finally, she spread her legs in front of the mirror, looking carefully between her thighs. No signs remained of what had passed through, although she clearly needed a shower. She reeked of sex. It made her nipples rise, remembering how it came to be so. She turned on the water.

      After her shower, she took coffee into the living room, sitting on the couch to think. She was still naked, sitting before the open window. She rarely wore clothes at home, even though she knew there were men across the way who watched her. That knowledge had always turned her on a little, and once in a while she would stand in front of the window, or pose in the doorway to the balcony, thinking how they must enjoy it. And to achieve her seamless tan, she was nearly always naked on the sun-drenched balcony.

      The hot, strong coffee brought her around to the problem of the day. She had gone out with Steve and screwed him - no big deal, even though he was sort of forbidden fruit by company standards. That didn't bother her. At least it was consistent with her normal sexual behavior. She had learned to accept that it was normal - at least for her. Not that she was certain it was Right. But, at least she had to realize that she couldn't do much about it, even if she wanted to.

      What bothered her was that she had willingly screwed two more men in the same room at the same time and enjoyed it. No. She had loved it, every moment. She also knew it was Wrong.

      Perhaps she was entering a new stage of her struggle with sex. Maybe she was becoming a nympho or something.

      Her stomach reminded her that breakfast was necessary, so she ate. Thinking about her excessive sex drive, however, wasn't really on the agenda for today. She simply felt too good to worry. She cleaned the apartment, did a cursory dusting of the bookcases that covered the walls. They were filled with books she treasured and frequently re-read. She did the laundry. She even washed the windows, knowing as she worked that someone was watching her bouncing, naked breasts and her bare ass as she stretched and moved her body to wipe the panes.

      Somehow she didn't feel Wrong. She felt Great.

      The afternoon passed quickly, and she found sunset approaching before she knew it. The phone rang, and she threw herself in the easy chair, one leg over the arm, reaching to answer.

      "Hi, Sara, it's Ralph. You haven't forgotten our date tonight, have you?"

      "Of course not, Ralph." She had. "But I'm glad you called. What do you want to do?" She ran her hand along the inside of her thigh, watching the sunshine and shadow that lay along it. Her hand ended up cupping her sex, feeling her own warmth and liking what she felt.

      "Well, that's why I called," said Ralph. "I wanted to see if there were anything special you had in mind - a movie?"

      "That's sweet of you, Ralph, let me think a minute." Sara paused and looked out at what promised to be a beautiful sunset. "Ralph," Sara said to him, "I slept late today. I've cleaned the house. I'm sitting here bare ass in the sunshine, and I don't feel much like moving, never mind getting dressed. It's nearly five. Why don't you get some Chinese food and come over. We can screw for a while, then we'll nuke some supper and screw some more. How's that for a plan?"

      "Well, I don't know, Sara." Ralph sounded hesitant. "I mean, why bother to eat?"

      Sara laughed at him and hung up. They had been lovers ever since she had first moved to town. It would take a lot to surprise Ralph.

When the doorbell rang, Sara had organized drinks. She met Ralph at the door naked and handed him his drink, taking the bag of Chinese food from him She stepped up for a kiss and a feel and went to put the food in the kitchen. When she returned, Ralph was naked, too, Already hard. They went into the bedroom. Sara made him lie on his back and mounted him. She watched herself in the mirror as she began to rise and fall.

.oOo.

In the morning, after Ralph left, Sara lay on the bed in the sunshine until her pulses calmed and the wetness between her thighs and on her belly began to dry. Rising, she put the breakfast dishes in the machine and took a shower. Then gathering the Sunday paper and a book, she went out on the balcony to spend the day in the sun. She stood there for a while, looking across the city, then took her bottle of sun oil and began greasing her body for the day. She thought some of her neighbors might be watching, so she took special care to oil her breasts and the insides of her thighs in a way that would please her imagined audience. Then she lay down to read and bake.

      She read the paper and finished her book. It was still only early afternoon. She got up and watered the flowers and plants that edged the balcony. On the lounge again, she turned on her stomach to toast her back, only after having spread more suntan oil on what she could reach. Her tan was good enough that she wouldn't burn, but the oil kept her skin from getting hard and tough. And putting more on would give her neighbors something to think about.

      With her head on the pillow, Sara closed her eyes, thinking to doze a little - but her thoughts returned to the episode of Friday night. She clenched her buttocks as she recalled it and realized that she still had a sense of pleasure left over from it.

      Sara felt a little horny most of the time. She always woke up horny in the morning, which was why she had formed the habit of masturbating before she got up, if for some reason she was alone. By the end of the day, she was almost always ready for sex. Yesterday, she had hardly felt the tingle of desire until late in the afternoon. Even today, after screwing Ralph before and after breakfast, she still felt calmer than usual.  

      'Not that I'm a sex fiend,' she thought. Often, she went several days without sex, particularly if no one she liked was available. She didn't like it and it made her edgy and irritable. But, she could do it.

.oOo.

 She asked her mother once, "Do you like sex?" At some length, she was told that sex was something you did to satisfy a man, or to get babies. It was necessary.

      "Do you have orgasms, Mom?" Sara had asked. It seemed that her mother had not really thought about it, but presumed she had, once or twice.

      And once again Sara asked, now already sure of the answer, "Do you like sex?" No, her mother did not like sex, and she saw no reason why anyone else should. In the long run, after all, sex was dirty.

      It occurred to Sara to ask how often her mother had sex, but she dismissed the idea, unspoken. Since her father had left, her mother had never dated, seldom had a man been in the house for any reason. Frequency didn't seem to be an issue for Mom.

      Long before Sara had this conversation, she had learned to compare her mother's pronouncements with her own experience. She knew that sex felt better than practically anything else she did. More important, Sara knew that she liked sex and seemed to need a lot of it. She knew that she could use sex to get things she wanted, but had also discovered that there was a price to pay if you used it that way.

      Somehow, during this period of her life Sara had made some discoveries. The boys she liked were honest with her, so she was honest with them. She learned that girls who played cutesy games got a worse reputation than being an easy lay, although there were some guys who really went for those games. Sara didn't. Perhaps that was what she saw in her mother's hypocrisy that warned her from doing likewise.

      She also learned how honesty, or what passes for it, can be used as a weapon and decided she didn't like that, either. By the time she was in college she could look a fellow in the eye and tell him what was on her mind, usually without hurting his feelings. She didn't have a lot of girl friends. With a few exceptions, they thought she was unfair competition. The exceptions were women with whom she could talk and whom she liked. Most of them liked sex, too.

.oOo.

Sara turned over in the sunshine, feeling the heat on her breasts, opening her legs to expose her crotch to the heat. This had the effect of drying the sweat that had gathered there and of baking a uniform color into the insides of her thighs.

.oOo.

But although Sara needed sex and it was natural to her, she couldn't get away from the feeling that there was something about her need that was Wrong. She had talked with friends, discreetly, of course, about sex and their reactions to it. Several of them seemed to feel much as her mother did. Others liked it, but either used it as man-bait or could take it or leave it alone.

      There was one girl Sara met in college - Gerry was her name - who seemed to be very active. Talking with her, it appeared that here was another woman who really enjoyed sex. But her boyfriends, when asked about Gerry, felt otherwise. Sara's best boy-friend at the time told her once that he thought Gerry faked it.

      "I never realized it until I met you," he had told her, "but when you come it's so honest, so real. I began to realize that when Gerry comes, it's not always real. She makes you think she's getting off, that's all. She sure gives you a good ride, but it just doesn't feel the same as when I'm with you. It's like the difference between Virgin Vinyl and the real thing."

      If that were true, Sara wondered why Gerry bothered. But her talks with Gerry convinced her that Gerry, even if she faked it sometimes, really did enjoy sex.

      Of course, there was much to be said for the attention you got from men who knew they could get into your pants. Sara's junior year in high school had taught her that, and then she had had to spend her senior year living it down. In college she had many lovers, but managed to avoid a reputation as an easy lay.

      A German girl in college was another woman Sara knew who enjoyed sex. Like Sara, she had no problem spreading her legs for men she liked. When Sara talked to her about it, Hilda had admitted that she enjoyed sex and couldn't understand why her American girlfriends didn't.

      "And the boys," she said, "they act like screwing was an incredibly difficult thing to do. At home, we learn how pretty early, and everyone does it. Here, if you let a guy see your tit, they go nut0s, like you want to rape them. I like America, but I don't understand the way you feel about sex."

      But on the other hand, although Hilda enjoyed sex and had no reluctance to say so, Sara noticed she didn't seem to do it very often. When she asked, Hilda admitted that she certainly wasn't always horny and generally only had sex once or twice a week. She could go without for a month or more, if no one showed up who was interesting.

      Other than those women, however, most of Sara's girl friends who would talk about sex all thought, no matter whether they enjoyed it or not, that it was Wrong. Few thought sex was dirty, but somehow screwing was. Which made about as much sense to Sara as their other attitudes.

.oOo.

Sara turned again, the sweat on her front soaking into the towel on her lounge. The heat was soaking deeply into her, and she was beginning to feel some of that heat as desire. She looked at her watch. 'Not bad,' she thought, 'it's mid-afternoon and I'm not going crazy.'

      Sinking again into her thoughts, Sara began to take stock of her own feelings. She had long ago accepted that sex was essential for her. The sessions with the shrink had convinced her that whatever anyone else thought about sex, she needed it. What bothered her was that she needed it so much. She had finally decided that, even though so many people thought it was wrong, it was really that they didn't want as much as someone else did. Because they didn't want it or need it, they felt as though guys were always trying to screw them and leave them, or they felt that allowing someone to have sex with them was giving away something precious.

      'Privacy is precious to me,' Sara thought. 'And self-respect. But, I can be private in a crowd if I want. I have plenty of time to myself. And the only time I worry about myself is this sex thing I don't seem to understand. When I get laid, it's always someone I like and I always enjoy it. I can't get all excited about that. It can't be wrong to screw someone you like.' Somewhere inside, she still wasn't sure.

      The afternoon sun had reached the top of the next building and a shadow began to creep across Sara's balcony. She reached for the phone. "Teddy? Sara. Look, why don't you come over a little early? I've been lying in the sun all afternoon and I'm sweaty and hot. If I take care of the sweat in the shower, will you take care of the hots? Right. Half an hour. Got your key? See you. No, I'll make some spaghetti. Bye."

      Sara was drying her hair when she saw Teddy's hard, naked body in the mirror. She turned and aimed the blower at him. "Stick 'em up," she ordered with a laugh. It already was up.

      "Bend over," retorted Teddy.

      Sara turned off the dryer and set it on the counter. She turned and laid her head on her arms, her legs spread and waiting. In seconds, she felt him pushing between her lips. As soon as it was in the right place, Sara thrust her hips back, ramming him into her. She was wet and Teddy was hard; between them they got it all the way in with one push.

      "Oh, nice, Teddy," Sara murmured. "Do me. Do me good."

      She looked up to see his face in the mirror and watched as he took a firm hold on her hips. He pulled back and began to ram in and out of her. Sara got a good grip on the counter and rocked her hips back as he thrust, bringing the tip of his penis against the sensitive spots inside her and working the lump of her womb against the tip. Her orgasm came quickly, and she called out wordlessly as she bounced and twisted on the hard, impaling tool. Teddy just kept on with what he was doing, knowing from experience that Sara would just keep on coming as long as he could continue.

      Sara, though, wanted a change of pace. She raised herself slightly on one elbow and reached back to feel where Teddy's balls were bumping her clit. She didn't want to grab him there, because it would have limited the depth of his thrusts. Instead, she let her long fingernails tickle the underside of his shaft as it ran in and out of her. Teddy's pace changed all right. He pumped frantically in and out and came with a roar. She came, too.

      In a moment or two, Sara felt Teddy slide from her. She turned and pulled him to her, kissing him and holding him tight to her full breasts, making sure his penis slipped between their bodies, keeping up the friction on the wet member, helping prepare it for the next bout. His hand found and cupped her buttocks, running up and down her back. He was still coming a little, and his fluids dampened Sara's bush.  

      "Oh, thank you, Teddy," Sara murmured against his neck. "That was lovely. Just what I needed. Let's go lie down and see what else we can think of."