Goldenrod Sequel Ch. 01

My quest began with a desire to find Sarah. I'd like to say I'd been haunted by her, that I was driven by some romantic notion like that. The truth was that she was the best screw I'd ever had, and I was completely hooked on her. Not only did I worry I'd never find her again, but I was sure no girl I'd ever meet in my life would be as fantastic as she'd been. I knew I had it bad, but how true that was I didn't realize when I set out.

To give some idea of what I was chasing I should go back to when we were together. I could tell you the details about how we met, and where we went, and why we laughed in each other's company, but that's not really what it was about. That's not what was important to her, either.

Sarah wasn't passive in her love play. I'd never been with a woman like that. I didn't know there were any. I might have realized she was different when I first saw her disrobe, the night after we met at a show. Beneath her sweater and jeans she had on clothing that first appeared to be gym wear, but when fully revealed it took on a decidedly masculine flavor. Full strawberry blond hair fell past her breasts, which were sealed in a red sports bra, and that was covered by a midriff-baring charcoal t-shirt with its sleeves cut out. Her skin was deathly pale, but her limbs were shapely strong, the build a sculpture by countless hours spent on a lacrosse field. Beautiful as she was, what drew my attention away from her youth, health, and urgency were the men's boxer briefs she wore, form-fitting black for the most part, gray elastic at the waist and thighs. Piercing dark eyes eventually roused me from the spell cast by her image. We entangled on her bed.

With us both naked I climbed to the missionary position, hands on the sheet at her neck, straight arms supporting the breadth of my back above her, hips striking her waiting sex. My legs were bent with the toes of both legs touching behind me, and her influence crept up this mount like a tide.

It was clear she liked being fucked. Excitement contorted her face and sharpened her breathing. It wasn't her goal, though, to receive. She gently clasped my upper arms, as a movie director would frame a shot in a film. Even as I focused on my piston in and out of her, legs slowly folded over my thighs and toes slid under my ankles with the subtlety of a master wrestler setting a choke hold. Before long I couldn't avoid the feeling of being carried by the girl whose form I was pinning. I was lulled into inaction as if by a fear of being dropped, lost momentum, and became suppliant of her will.

She kissed my right earlobe while straddling me, hands clutching the bedspread by my head. Again a prison was crafted without force, the right shoulder hushing my mouth and soles cushioning the sides of my calves. Thrust slowly crested at the center of her back, which undulated atop me to define her range of movement. Her shoulders and pelvis traded the raised position with the middle of her spine for a few seconds. Then, raising herself a few inches on her elbows, she slid her left hand away on the wrinkled bedding, and transferred vigor completely to her hips.

Eyes closed tight, panting in time with every mighty swell, Sarah used my body to sway the mattress. I lay supine, every muscle stiff as I politely tried to let my hands ride her midsection. Her head at mine as if to whisper in my ear she bounced as much up and down as to and fro, establishing a rhythm that would express her desire. Remaining intense, the lunging became entirely horizontal, subsuming her toned physique in a single dimension of movement. From then her hips lapped savagely onto mine, and maintaining this form with no evident effort she steadily increased the rate. Gasps escaped me, coalesced into moans, fell on deaf ears: she was relentless. Propelled by the powerful contractions of her firm, round buttocks, the pumping harshly scrubbed away her awareness of the world, leaving determination and tenacity that were totally mechanical. Her churning became the mindless thumping of a washing machine as she used my body to vibrate herself into oblivion.

"Oh... Whoa..." it began, as the headboard started tapping the wall like a concerned friend. Momentarily returning to self-awareness I thrilled at the humiliation of residents hearing me pounded into senselessness by their pretty, demure neighbor. I wondered if I was only the latest in a long line of victims to her lust. "Uh... UH!!!" she continued. I wouldn't have stopped her even if it were possible. "UHH!!!" was cried into my neck. "Oh!" she yelled as if surprised, "Uh!" and the wooden backing now hammered the sheet rock apace. "Uh, uh," she moaned, quieting, and the other noises subsided also with her speed. My manhood was wrung out inside her, and I huffed, sighed, and shuddered. Climax was celebrated with her hands kneading the bed like cat paws until becoming fists. The last wave traveled up and down the length of her trunk three times until dissipated.

Eventually she planted one fist on the bed, the other, then pushed with them, and was sitting. Our hands folded on my abdomen, and she rode me again. At the end, she showed her strange tendency to bind with gesture by resting the tops of her feet on the insides of my opened thighs and clutching my pectorals in her hands as though they were a woman's breasts. Each downward, forward drive of her vulva cranked my shaft up. After I came she lifted herself off so my member could flail wildly in ecstasy. Sarah grabbed my hair to lower my head to the pillow, and kissed me.

When we fell out of contact, I made no attempt to find her. We didn't have any understanding about our relationship, spoken or otherwise. I just feared losing the physical delights of it by suddenly appearing clingy. That can scare people away. It was only after a month had passed without seeing her that I ran into her roommate, Celeste, at a coffee shop.

Celeste was the sort of lesbian who looks like a skinny prince. She had short, dark hair; wore a tight knit hat; was wrapped in a long, thin scarf; and had on a puffy coat, jeans and boots. I was told that Sarah had been forced to leave town, and would possibly never be back. While we spoke her eyes darted this way and that, and showed that this girl was also being hounded; maybe by the same danger that had driven away her roommate. Celeste would have been easy to spook. Sarah on the other hand had tremendous courage, and as I well knew, great strength. Something was seriously wrong, but once more I felt excluded by the coldly sensual nature of the routine we'd had. No inquiry was made then into how I might help my old lover.

Maybe I lied before. There must have been a dash of romance in my search, or I wouldn't have waited until the odds of succeeding had dwindled to nothing, before looking in earnest. With my one lead passed up, I deliberately sought out Celeste two weeks after crossing her path, determined to make her divulge Sarah's location. That didn't prove easy. I had to revisit groups of friends I'd neglected in favor of sexual romps. Few people could place Celeste, let alone tell me where Sarah might have been. One night after a rock show I struck gold: a buddy who had become the band's roadie knew some bikers renting the apartment over their clubhouse to one of the people I'd been looking for. He gave me their address.

As one might imagine, the place was less than welcoming, even in light of day. It was a hideout, and company wouldn't be wanted. Proceeding carefully was a necessity. I stepped over a passed out bum, and climbed the stairs on the side of the building. At the top, I knocked at the residence.

"Who is it?" came a frightened voice from within, Celeste's.

"It's me, Celeste, Brian. Open up."

"Brian?" I heard her mumble in confusion as the chain was undone. Squinting at the light, she scanned me, and the surrounding area, finally granting admittance. Once I was in the bolts were slid into place behind me. "What are you doing here? How did you find it?"

"That guy Spacer told me, the one from the tantra class. I'm looking for Sarah." Fear seized her.

"What for?" Somehow I wasn't prepared for the question. I shuffled my feet and looked at the carpet.

"I... I want her back." Instantly her anxiety was transmuted into laughter.

"Can't get enough, huh? No, don't be ashamed. You're not the first guy she's enslaved. Come in. Sorry, the suite is a mess. I keep meaning to call down for room service. You know, Sarah had a reputation at our school as the World's Greatest Fuck. Had you heard that?"

"No," I said, suddenly aware the heat was off. Celeste's smile vanished.

"Ever wonder how she got that way?" A message in her eyes couldn't reach me, but we didn't look away from each other. "We'll have some coffee," she declared, and we went into the kitchen, where I sat.

There was little else to discuss, so we sat silently at our steaming mugs.

"I need to find her." Celeste shook her head.

"No." I wouldn't budge either.

"I don't care what kind of trouble it is."

"You think it's drugs, or an abusive ex, something like that. 'Maybe she's on the lam.' Nothing even close to that is happening. In a million years, you wouldn't believe it."

"Tell me."

"No." I sat back and glowered.

"What do I have to do?" I asked, scowling. More of her laughter followed.

"Oh, believe me, you wouldn't want..." Ideas were suddenly crossing her mind, as if a little bird were telling her something. "Or would you? What would you do to find out? Anything?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yes," I growled. She leaned over.

"If I tell you to do something, you'll do it. And you won't back out when you find out what it is. You can't ask me why you have to, either. You'll do what I say, you swear?"

"I do." I began sweating mildly. That such a scrutinizing glare could come from so small a head amazed me. She sat back, smiled, and nodded.

"Come with me."

Rising, I accompanied her. We walked to the bedroom.

Her clothes came off and landed on the floor in no special order. The look of shock on my face was answered by one of anger on hers. I shook my head, and also started getting undressed. Seeing that, Celeste resumed her denuding. She stopped at a tight black tank top and panties. Not told to do otherwise, I went all the way. Nodding at my compliance, she went to a bureau and opened the top drawer, from which she drew a small tangle. She unfurled it to reveal a strap-on harness, which she proceeded to affix to her small frame. My eyes grew huge. Watching for signs that I would flee, she lubed the pink rod with gel from a tube. Anger scratched a sneer onto my face.

"All fours," she ordered curtly. I assumed the position, searching my memory for anything that might distract me from the next few minutes.

"You're a good guy, Brian," she said, and my muscles relaxed, but only a moment. The six-inch phallus brushed my hole. Remembering my promise of moments ago, I let my head drop. Her knees shifted on the rug as her left hand fell on my lower back, and her right took my hip. It went in halfway, slipped out, and then smoothly filled me in an instant. My jaw dropped. "How do you like it?" she asked, a tremor of mockery in the words. She reached back for more lubricant, coated the inside of her cupped right hand, and smeared it around my erect penis while her left clamped on my shoulder. Her dick stretched and sored me while I vainly sought to logically connect the event with Sarah.

She pressed her front on my back, and began grinding her hips up, and then pushing us forward with them, in a sequence she repeated for long minutes. The two motions blended together into a dance of her posterior upon mine, and when the tip went deep she stiffly pressed so that I couldn't ignore it. My thoughts oscillated between the embarrassment of seeing a girl wield a cock better than I could, and the physical discomfort of being skewered with it bodily.

Jerking her right hand while inching up and down my torso, she let force slink into the forward movements to create gentle pounding. I lost any misconceptions about her petite body as she dug insistently into me. The floor creaked. She became more energetic. "Mm, Mm," she sang. Her right foot fell on the floor beside my knee, and she continued jacking me off, her hips grinding out soft moans. We separated, she lifting her shoulders as mine lowered. Hands were on my back, and she gave me the full length of dick. Strokes fell at all angles, and sounds poured from her mouth with no meaning or form. My left thigh was wiped by her hand, which then landed slaps on the cheek above it to herald another increase of force. Soothing and reassuring gibberish escaped her; and ragged breathing from arousal, fatigue, or both. Total surrender was the only thought in my mind.

Keeping a hand on the front of my thigh helped her maintain the beat, while arousal seethed from her as purring. She planted her forearm on my back, and leaned into me to deliver blows at my backside with yet more power. Pleasure overrode my mounted defense, and I moaned for the cock as it battered me again and again, her crouched above like a hawk surveying some distant objective.

A new style emerged with us in doggie: her left hand now on my right ribs, and her torso twisted to leave her right hand gracefully waving behind her, Celeste pleasured even more by the beauty of the balletic pose that let her hips switch to a perkier style of pumping. My eyes watered. She put both hands on my ass and let her fucking become a quick, simple in and out, breathing only with her mouth. Her knees came off the floor so she could squat at my back door, and she renewed her hold on my back with the left hand forward. As she rolled her hips, the harness made its deposit on each downturn. Finally, sufficient alertness returned for me to question her exuberance: her thoroughness originated from something other than hedonism, emotion, or even insanity. Hands flat at the center of my spine, and giving her loudest cry yet, she started swinging her dildo into me. That series of whams culminated in a sustained press of the tip to the deepest accessible point that caused me to gasp and gag. Wiggling her whole self, she produced painful friction at my sphincter, and then hugging me, joined her bent legs in the air, before allowing them to drop to the ground in a kneel. "Oh, yes," she whispered, as if I'd fucked her.

She slowed her invasions, and her breathing. Before stopping, she grabbed my neck and repeatedly stabbed with all the force her spasming abdomen could produce. "Uh!" she cried over the bombardment, "Ooh-ah, Ooh-ah," humps dwindling in speed and length, until she took air sharply in excitement, and moaning noisily gave three hard, sharp prods, one per second, that grotesquely distended her belly. Straightening up and stabilizing herself with her hands on my ass enabled her to get far away in a rotation that included total insertion on each downward pass. She gave the impression of being in flight. These volleys surpassed all the previous violations in spiritedness, and I collapsed onto my face in exhaustion.

In a dream, I saw a vast door open to illuminate a dark, musty area, and flooding into me from it came euphoria. Through the portal I discerned bells ringing, birds wheeling in light, laughter, festival. I knew the certainty of a quest completed, but that was...

"Sarah?" I was still on the floor. Celeste's bare feet and fragrant calves fluttered past me. She was in a blue silk robe, putting a suitcase on the bed.

"Congratulations. You've been initiated," she said, winking. "Sleep, now." I slept.

Later I dressed, with no sign of her. I wasn't surprised. My fascination with what we'd done detracted from the suspicion that I'd been conned. Sarah was still my primary concern.

"If you want to see her, you'll come with me," came a strange voice. I turned to find another young woman in the doorway. Her hair was also dark and short, but unlike Celeste she showed no humor. Attired in a gray blazer and slacks, with an open-collared button-down shirt, she looked like a slender eighteen year old guy. She had a long neck, and her face was extremely fair.

"Who are you?"

"Your friend is gone. She knew I'd find her."

"I asked your name."

"My name," she said, walking to me and looking me over, "is Miranda. I'm the only chance you'll ever have of seeing either Sarah or Celeste, again.

"Before I destroy them."

TO BE CONTINUED...