Sara Finds Him Once Again

This is a continuation of a story I submitted here a while back called "Sara finds love". It contains the first part of the story and what is now the second installment.

For him, attraction was not something that he could always recognize even when it would be obvious to others. He was a teacher in Catholic high school for girls and as such had long turned off his radar and did not look for any signs from his pupils as to how they reacted to him especially as he was approaching his late twenties and was already in a relationship.

That is not to say that he was totally immune to the charms of his charges, especially when in summer term the uniform skirt was rather loosely draped around long nude legs which seemed to stretch for ever, occasionally affording him the glimpse of white as the girls would innocently cross and uncross their legs.

She had come to his school at the age of 15 from Canada. Sara had shoulder length dark hair, a tanned complexion and beautiful, almost sorrowful, brown eyes, the type of eyes that you could stare into trying to read but would only see what you were meant to see and little more.

She had started learning his subject and was behind at first but because of her natural intelligence, she very quickly had caught up with and even surpassed some of his better students. For senior cycle, she kept on his subject and continued to make progress and by age 18 had quite a command of it. He had not failed to notice her. She was quite different from the rest of the girls, not only by the way she looked, but also by her interests. She read books like the autobiography of Michael J. Fox, a choice which he found odd and her favorite movie was American Beauty, which he liked too, but could not admit to her as the story line was just a little risqué for a teacher to admit to a pupil. She had an ease with which she dealt with him, as an equal, as one adult to another, as one in charge of her own destiny. That she was in love with him was something that he really had no idea of.

The first notion that she had feelings for him first occurred when she was preparing a project for his subject and had included photos from her last visit to Canada. He had looked over the photos and commented on one of her friends, a very beautiful young girl. The following day, when she handed up the final draft, the photo had been taken out. He had by now some idea that there was something more to this than met the eye and he in turn would lie awake in bed at night thinking about her and of the things he would like to do with her.

Three years passed and she was out of sight but not quite out of mind as he did think of her occasionally. He was to meet her again during summer vacation. She was studying and working part time at the library in M. College where he had started a research based postgraduate degree. Their meeting at the library desk had been unexpected for him as he had assumed that she would not have been there. Indeed this would have been the case only that she had found work there to pay her way through college. They started to talk and as it was close to her lunch break, she had suggested that they go for a walk around by the back of the college, beyond which there was a long lane way which lead onto the old farm and past this again, the more secluded fields bordering the river.

She walked slightly ahead of him as the lane narrowed and became a path winding its way towards the water. He watched her hips moving from side to side and because if the light material of her skirt and with the sunlight shining as it was he could see that she wore white underwear. She looked back at him as they arrived at the river, well hidden from public view and as they both sat down, she placed her hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she did so. This touch sent waves of anticipation through his body. She took off both shoes, slowly, and put her feet just over the bank of the river into the water. They talked for a bit and then she said,

"I'm quite tense, rub my shoulders ... please".

He got in behind her, on his knees and as he kneaded her back, he leant in closer to smell her hair. As he moved his hands round and around, she reached up and took hold of one of them.

"I've always liked your fingers, when I was in school. I would look at your hands as you played for the class and wonder what they would be like to..."

"To what?" he asked.

"To touch me ... all over, to feel me, to hold me, to possess me." she replied slowly, looking around, into his eyes, measuring his reaction.

She took his hand in hers and slowly moved it down along her body over her breast, still holding his gaze. He groaned almost inaudibly as he felt his cock growing harder and harder in his pants. Her breasts were small and pert and as she turned around to face him, her skirt rode up along her thigh exposing her to his view. She pushed him onto the ground and reached over and they kissed long and hard for the first time. As he wore light cotton jeans, his erection was visible and after slipping her hand under his tee-shirt, she said to him.

"Let me tell you a little story".

Sara spoke slowly, deliberately, almost tasting every syllable she uttered as a delicious morsel of food.

"Let me tell you about what I used to thing about when I was in your class, I used to wonder what it would be like to unzip you and take your cock out and suck you off and let you explode into my mouth...I pictured various scenarios, such as you taking me for a private lesson over in the music rooms and that I let you seduce me or you let me seduce you."

Sara started to feel his swollen cock through his jeans and continued to talk.

"I would be already at the piano when you would arrive. I would be at the piano stool, but with my knees up on it and with both hands supporting myself across the keyboard. My skirt would of course be up around my waist and my panties would be pulled down, half way down my thighs and this is the sight that would greet you as you came in the door."

Her hand continued to rub his cock but with a little more pressure and he ached for her to unzip him and to take it out into her hand.

"You would lock the door and come over to me. I would stick my ass out further for you to see my bald pussy. Would you have like that?" Sara asked him. "What would you have done to me?... Would you have fucked me? ... Would you have sucked me?"

Sara reached inside his pants and freed his cock. She took it in her hands and started to stroke it with her hand.

At first, this was slightly painful as well as pleasurable but with some saliva from her mouth to act as lubricant, he could only feel waves of intense pleasure beginning to build. He felt himself go almost into a trance like state as her hand continued to stroke him and as she continued to speak, coaxing his orgasm with her words and with her hand.

"Imagine that you are putting it into me. From behind. This is only the start. I will let you do it. I will let you fuck my tight little pussy. Later. I will let you do whatever you want to me and in return ... you will have to let me do whatever I want with you".

This was all he could take. The sight of her, the words that she spoke, the promise of complete liberty and possession, of love and lust, oh yes, complete with the fantasy she had built for him made him come so strongly. His cock erupted and spewed its contents all over her hand, to her obvious pleasure, and when the last wave of orgasm had left his body and the last drop of sperm ran out of his tip, she turned her look back up to him and said,

"You are mine now... You always have been... You always will be".

Later that evening, as he lay in bed beside her, he reflected on what he had experienced the last number of hours. When Sara had brought him back to the flat, he had undressed her slowly, examining her body in minute detail, brushing his hands softly over her breasts, making her nipples stiffen, before laying her down on the bed. He softly bade her close her eyes and began to lightly touch her forehead with his fingertips, gently applying pressure here and there in the sensitive areas over her eyelids. He brushed back her hair from her ears and blew his hot breath along the nape of her neck up to her ears. He glided his hands up and down her body from her stomach to her neck, occasionally touching her breasts but not in any rushed or hurried fashion. Slowly, his touch began to become more intimate, seeking out the area between her thighs, but not quite touching her between her legs. His hands ran along from her waist to her breasts and then he started to suck gently on her nipples. Her breasts reacted to his foreplay and she ached for him to touch her all over. She spread her legs as wide as she could, and as if reading her mind, he ran his tongue down from her breasts to her clitoris and started to lick the area around it but deliberately avoiding it for the moment. He continued to lick, working from there up to her breasts and then onto her lips. This, she was not too sure about as she didn't quite like the smell of her on his face. This sucking and licking continued for a long time and eventually, he started to gently stroke her with his tongue. He licked sometimes gently, sometimes forcibly and her orgasm began to build.

A low moan emitted from Sara as she began to build up for the oncoming rush of pleasure and she focused completely on what he was doing for her. Then, just at the right moment, he started to suck her now fully swollen clitoris and pleasure began to turn into sheer ecstasy for her. Sara placed her hands on his head to make sure that he did not stop now... now that she was so close and eventually, she could feel herself reaching for the peak, reaching, reaching and then, she was there and wave after wave of pleasure went through her, causing her to cry out with sheer pleasure, moving her head from one side to another, holding on to every last morsel and then, it was over .... for the moment. That day was gone and another began. He left and they drifted out of contact.

Years go by as they always do. One touch is lost and sometimes is replaced by another but finding the same fit as what fit best the first time is an lifelong search, often rewarded by tangible clutches of what passes as the same thing. He marries and love his wife. A child is born who fills the gaping hole with his heartbeat and body heat. Sometimes, sometimes he closes his eyes and in his mind he is back there in her Sarah's arms again. He feels her lips against his and he arches his neck to move his mouth against the space between her shoulders and ears. He can feel his lips close around her flesh and her smell comes back and hits him again and he sees her close her eyes, open her mouth to accept his tongue and he feels he is alive again one more time. The future, once so bright, is now fading more than a little as he passes his middle years and waits what is in store in a life made bearable by its predictable monotony.

Predictability is however an inexact science and it is one of those oh so same days that he looks up and sees her again, back on the same street, back in the same town and back into his life as if she had never been gone. Dream intertwines with reality, plays with it, casting his mind and body into a confused state and for the first time in so long, manifests his desire into physical longing which he has ached for all of those years. As they spoke, his eyes lock onto hers and he knows instinctively that he never wants to stare into any other woman's eyes ever again. He asks for her phone number and then asks her for coffee.

He can still remember crossing the street, walking inside, ordering and going upstairs to the section that was usually deserted at that time of the morning. She wore jeans, a loose top and black boot type shoes that exposed the flesh on the foot and arched it the way he liked. On her ankle there was a gold chain. They sat close together. He leaned towards her, just close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. He could smell her perfume and this further threw his mind into disorientation and the next few moments now seemed quite blurred to him. His hand slipped under the back of her top where he touched only the arch of her back. The feeling of her flesh, to him it was like the softest and most exquisite vellum. It seemed to come alive under his touch as his hands wove this way and that and the feeling under his fingertips was one that he would never forget again.

They talked for what seemed like just a few moments but in reality were closer to 30 minutes. Free period was over. Resistance was futile from the very moment she came back into his life. For one so young, her ability to play a very complicated game with his heart without even trying hard became apparent to him immediately.

"You know that I will seduce you again. You won't be able to resist me. You never could."

"Why play with me?"

"Because I can. Because you want me to. Because you are selfish and you will betray all around you for me. I will take you because you were the first I loved and you will love me the way that I loved you. You know you want to. I'm right? You know I am! Can I touch you?"

All the time she holds his gaze. Her eyes are so dark and he finds them enchantingly beautiful. The fall recommences, an uncontrolled descent under her spell and he watches as her hand moves towards his crotch, feel his hardness and all the time she holds his gaze, as she, with a mere touch, takes possession of his body, his mind and his soul.

"Oh, my, yes, you are excited!"

The die is cast but this time the stakes are much higher. He is now married. Try as he might, the spell she has cast is way too strong for him to resist. Once more she has spun a web so strongly that he is at once entangled and ensnared and not entirely sure whether to struggle or to give in.

"Meet me next Saturday. You know my Mom's house? She's won't be there. But you will come? Won't you?"

His mouth is dry. His mind is confused and his body feels excitement as the idea of meeting Sara again has caused his brain to pump adrenalin through his body.

Time moves quickly when it has to. He comes to her. At last it is Saturday. The weather has been so cold for so long. Now, it has turned drier. He rings her mobile. There is no answer. Doubt runs through his mind. He continues to drive. He rings again and still no answer. Arriving in the estate where she lives, he looks for and finds number 11. She is at the window. He looks at her face and sees that she is smiling. He smiles back, leaves the car and walks to the front door.

She has a meal prepared for him. He sees the effort she has made for him and loves her all the more. She brings him to her bedroom. Both of them strip and get in her bed. Now that he can see her completely naked once again and his breath shortens. He lets out a low moan. No woman ever believes herself to be perfect and can only see the flaws she possesses, but he sees none of them, only perfection. From the top of her head to the toes of her feet, he cannot see any blemish, save for a tiny, almost invisible scar on the top left of her temple. She won't tell him how it got there.

The kiss, when it comes, is nervous. He is nervous. He closes his eyes, concentrates, relaxes and then the incredible sensation of her mouth, tongue and teeth find his, forgives his inadequacies, smoothes out his flaws and accepts his failings in such an natural way that he is caught and made hers forever. His hands move over her body, finding what he so dearly wants to find. She fits him and he fits her and the fitting is so exquisite. His hands roam deeper and further and mmmmmmmm so much closer all the time to where they need to go and when they arrive there, he feels her hands run through his hair, down his neck, around the small of his back, circling and possessing, probing and exploring, as much the actions of his hands mirror hers. And, then oh yes, then, the moment when they connect for the first time. They fit each other and see that they fit and look into each others eyes and see that they belong and that nothing can break this link, nothing can come between them, nothing can break the bond they have, nothing except death itself. She takes him into her and as they move together, she looks into his eyes and she accepts him and oooooooooh, as the intensity of feeling grows within his body, he feels the familiar rush of emotion building and then the joy of release infused with complete and un compromised joy of acceptance he could see in her eyes and which he returns with his.

Class and staff room took a great deal of patience as it interfered with those moments of solitude where he could picture and relive what had been said and done between them. For days, weeks and months he spends every spare moment thinking of her. She is never far from his conscious mind. From early morning to last thing at night she is ever present. Desire completely overwhelms both his body and mind. He decides that if she did really love him, he would return this love. The decision is made as simply and as quickly as that. The decision is also made with the sure and certain knowledge that she could, would and will lead him on a merry dance and perhaps break his heart into so many fine pieces. Try as he might to shake her from his mind, it proves impossible. He would push her from his mind but her eyes kept coming back in, seeking entry through any weak point in his will that would not tolerate resistance. Over the weeks and months, he has to learn to live with this presence. The torturous and tainted love of a married man for another woman manifests itself in feelings of self loathing and guilt, but those feeling of betrayal are washed away at a moments notice when he is in her arms again. Those times that they meet are far too short and far too infrequent. Love, even tortured love needs feeding and sporadic and fleeting dates are no substitute for an honest and open relationship.

Time does change things and shows the difficulties and pitfalls which were once seen as mere trifles. Change is inevitable and trying to stop it proves as frustratingly futile as counting rain drops. Mind and spirit move the body to consider issues in a more practical and pragmatic manner. Moments of intense pleasure and time spent in glorious adoration of each other are no replacement for the pleasure of unashamedly demonstrating love in public. He could read her face and understood her thought process. This does not make it any easier for him but it is understandable, a completely logical reaction. He is not strong enough to let go and she protests that she does not possess this strength either. This, however, is something that he doubts.

Sarah is a natural born survivor and moving on, eventually, when she has to, is an action he feels that she is capable of doing. Rationally speaking, this would be the right course to take, but nonetheless he hopes that rationale does not enter into the equation. He also knows that he can and would forgive any decision that she makes in the certain knowledge that he would treasure his feelings for her until his breath left his body.

Her mood and her subconscious he could read a little, enough to let him know that things could and would not stay forever in a static state of limbo. This was something he had first noticed hours after they had made love in her upstairs bedroom. A change occurred in her eyes. Her face, even as she declared undying love to him, communicated a contradictory message. Something flashed in her eyes and her lips momentarily pursed in different way and immediately he understood that she was capable of leaving him with little more than momentary hesitation even if it were accompanied with a certain chagrin. So that is where we must leave things for the moment as that is where things lie right now. As clouds of volcanic ash makes their way over the sea between Ireland and Iceland, he, in his heart of hearts knows the probable outcome of this dangerous liaison ............