Chapter 2

Barry was waiting for her. Sarah got into the car, rolled the window all the way down and slumped in the seat. It would feel good to have the wind blow her hair. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"I sure wish you would give those damn things up, honey," Barry said as he started the engine.

"Mr. Wallace, please, no sermons today," Sarah groaned.

"Well, pardon me, I-"

Sarah reached out arid touched his hand. "I'm sorry, Barry. It's been a rough day. Just let me lean back and relax for a few minutes."

"Okay, hon, forgiven. But I still don't see how you can keep from smoking at home, when you smoke as much as you do."

Sarah took a deep drag, held it, then let it out slowly. Jesus Christ, will you shut up? she thought, and closed her eyes.

Sarah still lived at home with her parents and it wasn't easy. They nagged her about this and they nagged about that. And where smoking and drinking and sex were concerned-it was Sodom and Gomorrah revisited. They constantly bitched about the smell of smoke on her clothing, blaming it on the horrible sinners she had to mingle with. It always made her laugh silently a little and want a cigarette so bad she could fart!

Sarah knew she wasn't the kind of girl they thought she was. It bothered her conscience, but she was slowly getting over it. She had to be her own kind of person, not theirs. Life was to be lived and enjoyed. It wasn't meant to be a period of time in which you could see how much you could deny yourself. Of course, it couldn't be all self gratification, either. There had to be self restraint and Sarah practiced that, too.

She was an only child and hadn't been around other kids too much when she was little, especially boys. She had matured early, being around grown-ups most of the time. Her spiritual needs had been well-filled, but her human needs had been left sadly lacking.

Sarah's first knowledge of boys came long after she should have known that boys and girls are different. She and several other girls were hiking when they came upon a group of boys swimming nude in a pond. The girls hid and watched the boys frolic in the water. When the boys got out of the water, Sarah's eyes had been riveted to the funny way their cocks hung down their legs. She didn't know boys had anything like that-she had always thought they were like girls, except bigger and stronger and meaner. The girls had a close vantage point and watched as the boys settled down in the grass to dry off. Then the boys had started playing with themselves.

Sarah's whole being went through a terrible upheaval as she watched the boys' pricks growing in their hands. She watched the boys masturbate with abandon and saw their cocks grow rigid and squirt milky stuff all over the place. Then the boys got up and held their pricks. Some of them pissed, other just milked out that other funny goo.

The girls had started giggling and the boys heard them. Sarah and her friends jumped up and ran with the boys in hot pursuit. They shouted what they were going to do to the girls when they caught them, but they didn't try very hard and nobody got caught. But Sarah's body burned. She wanted them to catch her and do to her whatever it was they wanted to do. She was sorry that they didn't.

Sarah's sexual education began there. She had yearned for something-she knew not what-and became something of an oddity. She was by far the best4ooking and best-built girl in school but also the most untouchable. Don't take her out, the boys all said. She's some kind of religious nut and won't hardly even kiss.

She had gotten through high school pure and ignorant and then gone into nurses' training at her mother's instigation. "Your duty to repay God is to be a nurse, an angel of mercy,?' her mother said. Little did her mother know what an angel of mercy or how much pleasure and relief little Sarah would bring to certain ailing male patients.

Sarah's training included emptying bed pans, bathing patients, changing gowns and bedding and, for the second time in her life, she was seeing male cocks. The memory of the nude boys by the pond burned in her mind. Her body tingled and itched and ached and it was just a matter of time before it happened.

The first time she had been alone in a room with a young boy giving him a bath when he got a hard-on. When he boyishly asked her to play with him she impulsively grabbed his cock and jerked him off until his come spilled down over her hand;. It was the most thrilling experience of her life.

She swore it would never happen again, but it did again and again. It even got to the point where she would rush to the toilet afterward and play with herself. She had her first orgasm sitting on a cold toilet seat thinking about the man she had just jerked off.

But her guilt had flourished and made her a prime target when she met Barry Wallace. He was a pre-law student, steady, reliable, and her parents liked him. He was just the kind of dedicated young man that Sarah needed and he was religious, too.

They fell in love and as their necking grew heavier, so did their need for each other. They never really petted, even though Sarah really wanted to play with his cock. She knew a shrink would have said she was obsessed with penis envy or had a deep seated penis fixation or some such bullshit. But hell, Sarah just liked the feel of a cock in her hand-the way it was so soft and pulpy at first with the bag hanging loose. And then the way the prick grew and the bag tightened, the man's groans, his squirting cock, and, best of all, the exquisite feeling it gave her. She got so she could come herself, sometimes, while she brought a guy off. Those were the best times. She liked the idea of making a man feel so good.

It was only natural that it would finally happen. One afternoon they went to Barry's apartment, stripped, and fucked. There was practically no foreplay, they just lay down, he forced his cock in, and moved in and out. Sarah closed her eyes and imagined he was one of the boys at the pond years ago and had a violent orgasm. It frightened Barry so much that he didn't even come.

Sarah had wanted to get married, but Barry had a lot of school still ahead of him and pointed out the wisdom of waiting. Sarah's parents, of course, concurred. With his heavy study load he didn't have enough time for Sarah and she often felt neglected. Their sex life fell into a schedule-Barry was a nut for schedules-and they fucked once a week, always on Wednesdays. Today was Wednesday.

Sarah let the smoke slide easily from her lips and watched Barry through squinted eyes. She was burning up inside, her belly churned, her thighs tingled and her cunt throbbed with excitement. She wanted to fuck so bad she could all but taste it.

Barry parked the car and Sarah looked at her watch. It was almost four o'clock.

"I can't stay late. Gotta be home by five thirty. Mom gets mad as hell when I'm late," she said.

Barry frowned and she knew it was because she used the word hell. She threw her cigarette butt out the window. It was her third since leaving the hospital.