Chapter 2

When she got home, Sara flung off her clothes, only stopping a moment to hang up her suit. Hose, panties, blouse, camisole went in a ball into the hamper. Naked, she threw herself on the bed, her legs spread wide, as if the cool air could cool her desire.

She lay on her big, king-size bed with her head at the foot, a frequent choice when she wanted to masturbate. At the head of the bed, a wide mirror tilted out from the wall to give her a good view of what she and her lovers were up to.

She looked at her body. Full breasts, hanging naturally beneath broad shoulders. Nipples that normally stood a half inch from the flesh of her deep pink aureoles. Flat stomach and narrow waist. Good hips and chestnut brown hair at the junction of her thighs. Long legs she could only, even being a little humble, describe as fantastic. She spread her thighs and looked at her sex. The brown hair, luxuriant at the base of her belly, was sparse between her thighs and the lips shone pink and moist through the light covering of fuzz. She flexed her muscles, and saw how her mound shrugged. In the mirror, she watched herself dip her fingers into her moist folds.

When her fingers were wet, Sara started to work on her clitoris. She began to rub and caress the little bit of sensitive flesh, feeling the sensation inside her build with each touch. Slowly at first, she smeared the juices around. Then, she slid her fingers down the length of her pussy, letting the tips enter her vagina, and began rubbing the length of her slit. The feeling of frantic desire built higher inside her. Slowly, then faster, she rubbed, pushing her hips up to increase the pleasure, watching herself in the mirror. Almost before she knew what was happening, she came, her orgasm making her gasp, her hips twitching and bouncing. As the bursting feeling subsided, she slumped back on the bed.

"Shit, ' she murmured, "that hardly helped at all. I'm still hot as a firecracker.'

Sara thought about going for a second orgasm, but went to take a shower instead. She felt much better for the exercise, but there was still a lot of sexual tension. She kept the water cool as she soaped her full breasts and spent just a moment or two extra on her crotch, trying to make the fragrant soap and water mixture replace the musky scent of her sex. She often did that, rarely succeeded. She was simply a woman who smelled of sex. All the time.

'God, I wish I weren't like this, ' she thought, 'All it gets me is hot pants and trouble.' She knew that this evening she would end up in bed with Steve Calvin, and she looked forward to the release it would bring, but dreaded her feelings of guilt tomorrow.

Back in the bedroom, she looked through her drawers, finding loose, lacy, dark brown tap pants and a pair of thigh-high stockings with a sexy design up the side. The brown gabardine skirt was tight across her flat stomach and round buttocks, but long, reaching almost to the floor. The left-hand seam, however, was open to the waist-band with buttons spaced along the edge. She fastened only the waist and one other button so that, when she sat on the bed, her leg was visible to the top of her stocking. Between the button and the stocking was a glimpse of lace almost the same color as the skirt. Not obvious, just sexy as hell.

She sat there for a moment, still naked to the waist, looking at her reflection in the mirror at the head of the bed. She lay back across the bed again, watching her breasts spread slightly on her chest. Her finger caressed her nipples, making them harder and more rigid.

Not long after she had her first period, Sara decided to find out about sex. She was a pretty girl, leggy, with breasts that already showed the promise of fullness. Her only problem was finding a partner. The boys in her grade didn't seem to be interested.

By the time she was 15, however, she found that older boys were indeed interested. Accordingly, one afternoon when her mother wasn't home, Sara brought one home. They took off their clothes and he stuck his penis into her. After he had moved it in and out a while, he came, got up, dressed and left.

Sara knew from reading her mother's slightly trashy novels that there was more to sex than that. She began to study the subject a little and found out about masturbation. She tried that, and got good at it quickly. It was fun. She did it a lot. Some of her girlfriends did it, too. When she told them about screwing the boy, they all wanted to try it, but Sara warned them that there wasn't much to it.

One of her girlfriends come back from a date and said that fucking was wonderful. Sara figured she must have missed something, so she got hold of the boy who had pleased her girlfriend and took his pants off for him. This time, whether because of the masturbation or because of the boy, she came. That changed the whole picture. Sex was suddenly a whole new ball game. She did it a lot, at least until her mother found out.

Mom gave her a licking, and a lecture and the pill. She got more lectures and plenty of grief, but she didn't stop having sex. Mom made it clear that sex was dangerous, unwise, and maybe Wrong. Mom wasn't heavy on religion, but she knew Right from Wrong. Certainly sex was Wrong without a marriage certificate, because marriage meant you wouldn't get screwed financially. Her lectures to Sara took their toll, and by the time she was in high school, Sara was worried about her strong sex drives. Few of her friends liked it as much as she did, and all in all, she began to get the feeling that there was something wrong with her.

In high school, Sara was taller than average. She began looking for a personal style — she didn't want to look like all the other girls. Her mother had bought her bras as soon as she had started to grow breasts, but Sara found them uncomfortable and stopped wearing them. Her nipples were always rather prominent, so she usually wore an undershirt and finally found that camisoles did the trick, keeping her warm in winter as well as keeping her nipples and breasts from being too obvious. She cut her heavy, glossy chestnut hair short so she could dry it quickly and didn't have to fuss with it. It saved time, especially when she wanted a shower after a hot session in bed.

In her junior year in high school, one of the guys she slept with told some other guys, and all of a sudden she had a reputation as an easy lay. Of course, it was true, and she lived up to it. It didn't take a lot to get into Sara's pants because she loved sex. But she didn't like the reputation and the way people treated her as a result. And, it worried her that she needed it so badly, especially since everyone else thought it was wrong just to do it, much less to like it.

In her senior year at high school, she cut them all off. It wasn't easy, and she had to clobber a couple of the more persistent boys. But, she made her decision stick. She wasn't anyone's easy lay any more. For the first few months she nearly went mad with frustration, and masturbation really didn't make up for the real thing. Then, she found a boy who could keep his mouth shut. She kept him very busy, but she did miss the variety.

At college, Sara decided to study Hotel Management. She was smart and quick, worked hard and got top marks. She also managed to find several men who didn't need to brag about sex, and she slept with them all as often as possible. There was hardly a day that she didn't have a man in her mouth or between her legs. And quite often, she didn't have to limit herself to one.