Impact 10½: of Rebekah

"MmmmMMMMMmmMMMMMM!"

Her ass lifted off the bed and her hands pulled at the sheets as she came. I was staring into her eyes which looked half crazed and adoring. Finally it was too much and she grabbed at my wrist and wrenched my fingers away. I lifted myself up off her, wanting to give her a chance to breath, but she grabbed my waist in both her arms and pulled at me.

"No, please... please Rebekah... let me... I want-"

I'd put both my hands on her head and lowered myself again, watching her lips capture my clit and suck. My thighs burned and my ass spasmed as she drew me in. I was pulling her hair too tight, could see in expression it must hurt, but couldn't stop. My muscles were locked, vibrating and aching, but Sarah's mouth, her lips and tongue sucking and trilling, she seemed to be sucking me in. I could feel my being, my entire self, compressing as if I was being drawn down the infinite curved taper of Gabriel's Horn.

"Sarah!"

My arms were thrown over my head. I had released Sarah's hair and stood up on my knees but I was falling over. Sarah still gripped my waist. Her fingers clawing the top of my ass painfully. I crashed on my side and tried to push her away, but she had followed me down, was sucking and licking like a little animal. I had begun to laugh and squirm, desperate to free myself, to catch my breath, but Sarah's arms wrapped my leg with surprising strength. She was using her shoulders to keep my legs forced open. I began to buck and jerk, hoping to throw her off. Finally, I was too weak from my orgasm and gave in, my neck bent back, head and one arm thrown out into space, both hanging limp off the side of my bed. I started to moan. I made a sound like I'd never made before; a droning whine, almost silent, but scratching my throat. What was Sarah doing to me? The moan began to get louder in waves.

"NNMMmm... NNNMmmm... NNGMmm..."

I forced my neck to lift my head so I could see what Sarah was doing. Her hair was wild, like a mad woman's, and she was staring at me, eyes blazing. My arm that was still on the bed was limp, but she had laced her fingers in mine, and was holding it tight. Her other arm was pinned under my leg, but she had reached around so she could grip and scratch at my belly.

"MMMGD!"

I moaned as my head fell back into space. I could feel my face filling with blood as my back arched and my hips rolled and pumped. Blood pounded in my ears.

"NNNNGWDSARAHHHH!"

My body contracted, bringing my head back up above the mattress-line. I was staring at Sarah whose face was dripping wet. Drops hung from her lashes and her hair. Had I sprayed her? I could feel my face, frozen in a mask of pleasure so intense it must have looked like pain, but then my neck and spine gave out and I flopped back against the damp sheets, my head lolling once again to the benthic deeps of my bedroom.

"Boatswain..." I croaked, imagining myself castaway in Prospero's storm.

For a moment Sarah seemed to relent. For a moment I was allowed to hang upside down, gasping; quivering spasms wracking me.

Sarah dragged my limp body by the hips back onto the bed, and I made a low croaking moan that seemed to come entirely from my abdominal floor.

"Ohhhhhh..."

It was only when I was entirely back on the bed, slack and sweaty, my limbs akimbo, that Sarah began to lick again. These licks were small and slow, her tongue hardly pressing my flesh. I felt her touching my wrists, and hands, moving my arms, arranging me. She pushed my fingers into her hair, her hands over mine she squeezed my fingers into fists.

"Fuck me."

It wasn't an order, or maybe it was. It was more like begging though. Her hands still holding my fists tight, she made me pull her face hard against my cunt, just like I did when I straddled her face. She held me like that until the strength returned to my arms and I could do it myself, until I could grind her face into my cunt.

She brought me to two more orgasms that way before she finally let me pass out.

I wake up early when I drink.

I hate it, but once I'm up there's nothing I can do to get back to sleep. That next morning was no exception.

I disentangled myself from Sarah's naked body and got up, limped to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tried to get my hair under control. I stretched and twisted, examining my stomach and flanks and ass, I was covered in scratches. My pussy felt like it was rammed by a truck. Back in my room I slipped on a pair of sweatpants standing over the bed. I stared at Sarah, who was laying face down, her hair a strawberry blonde rat's nest. She was bare assed. Her shirt and bra were still wound around her arm, her panties hung from one ankle. I pulled the covers over her and saw that my door was ajar. Was it open all night? I pushed the door open as quietly as possible and slipped out.

I stepped in a puddle outside my door. Water from last night? It was a miracle the steps weren't soaked.

The house was silent as I padded down stairs in my bare feet to make coffee. I was literally walking funny.

"What the fuck Bekah..." I muttered as I hobbled into the kitchen.

I sat and drank ice water while the pot brewed, staring out at the weedy overgrown garden and thinking of nothing. I'd woken up with Sarah cuddling me from behind, her arm around my waist.

I wondered what she would say, what I should say. I pictured her looking lovingly at me; wondered at the pounding in my chest.

'When do I ever feel like this?'

The machine made the happy sizzling noise signaling coffee was ready.

I felt a jolt of joy as I carried our coffees through the sleeping house. Creeping up the stairs, I carefully avoided the squeaky steps and the puddle.

I had left the door ajar, pushed it open with my foot and found Sarah sitting up in bed. She was rubbing her mouth with the heel of her hand, her shirt was twisted and wrinkled, but it was on, her hair was still a fright.

"How did I end up here?"

I was holding our coffees. Her question stopped me cold.

"What?"

"Did I come here after the party?"

""No, you... I..."

I was sputtering, not sure what to say. Was she serious? She looked genuinely confused.

"There were guys at the party?" I said doubtfully, hoping she would remember. "Rob and Patrick and Tommy? There was kind of a scene?"

Sarah just looked confused.

"It was scary..." I tried to explain. "Don and a bunch of other guys had to walk us home... back here?"

"You were at the party?"

She looked bewildered. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm not wearing any underpants."

"Um. You were really drunk," I told her, handing her her coffee. "We both were."

It was an awkward morning. I couldn't be sure but I don't think she was pretending to have forgotten. At least not at first, but I was shocked at how entirely she had blacked it all out.

She got dressed and excused herself to go back to her dorm, apologizing for any trouble. She was clearly embarrassed, and I didn't want to make it worse so I didn't stop her. But I was stunned. After she left I sat in bed, my ears ringing like I'd fallen on my head. As hard as I tried to gather my wits I couldn't.

When Sarah emailed that evening, again apologizing for any trouble and asking if we were still on to work together that week, I felt a rage boil up and started to pound out an angry response calling her a liar and a fake. But then I thought about the way I'd snuck around and pretended to leave the house; what an absolute fake and coward I was.

I cried reading again all the angry hateful things I'd written. I didn't hit send. Instead I deleted it. Told her she was no trouble and I was looking forward to working with her. The semester was almost over, and it would be our last session. I looked around my room and wondered at the fact I hadn't started packing, my total lack of any sort of plan. I needed to make some decisions.

When Sarah arrived that week I went down to let her in. The guys had all left already. She looked beautiful standing there on the porch. She was wearing little running shorts and a tank top. Her bag was slung over one shoulder. She looked nervous to see me, her gaze was furtive. She was in full Clark Kent mode.

"Hey, you all ready for finals?"

"No!" she laughed halfheartedly.

"Well let's get you ready, come on."

I led her up the stairs and to my room. I'd made the bed, and watched as she unpacked her things and laid them out carefully on the covers. She was glancing at the bathroom door which was wide open.

"I really liked your stories," I told her, picking up the pages from my desk. She looked startled, like she'd forgotten them. "I especially like the second one."

She blushed. It was about an older girl named Katherine McNamara, who had teased and bullied Sarah. In the story Katherine had caught Sarah masturbating, had made her finish, and mocked her while she did.

"I just-"

"The ending is really intense," I told her. "I didn't see it coming at all. Your descriptions are great Sarah. I made some notes, but I think it's some of your best writing. You need to channel that attention for detail and description into your other prose."

She looked surprised by this, surprised that I liked the story, that I was talking about it this way.

"Thanks," she said, her tone unsure. I know it's weird. I'm not even sure why I showed you. I just-"

"Is it true?" I asked. "Did this happen to you?"

"No! I mean, no... not at all. I mean Katherine is true- well, real... She's a real person, but no, that never happened..."

"Well the way you describe it, it feels real, feels true," I told her. I was sitting at my desk, turned to face her. She was standing at the end of my bed looking more awkward and embarrassed than I'd ever seen her. I thought of holding her by the hair as I came, grinding against her. She had sucked and licked and fingered me hard, pounding me to orgasm, stretching me with her hand, her chin dripping wet. I had called her name at first, but we had descended into incoherence. The two of us had been like animals towards the end. It had almost been like a fight, bared teeth, groveling and whining, growling and snarling, all the scratching.

I thought of how she had looked. Her face had been flush and damp with sweat, the corners of her mouth curled in a feral grin, her eyes had shone in the dark. I touched my stomach thinking of the way she'd gripped me; clawing at my belly and flanks; the scratches she had left. The bruises I still had.

'Superman.'

It was hard for me to believe I was looking at the same girl, so withdrawn and unsure of herself.

"Look," I started, staring her in the eyes, waiting until she was looking back, and holding her gaze. "I'm going to leave you for about twenty minutes. Do you understand?"

"Yes?" she told me.

"OK, and you can take care of yourself?" I asked.

"Yes, I think-"

"Good," I said. "Twenty minutes."

I made no move to leave, I just stared at her. She blinked and shuffled and looked around in confusion, but I made no move to leave.

"Are you-" she started, but faltered. I gave her nothing. Finally after a very long pause she took a step towards the bed and for a moment I thought she was going to sit and start studying, but instead she started fiddling with the waistband of her shorts.

Again I gave her nothing, just watched; holding her gaze. Her face was bright red. She took a deep breath and began to push her shorts down. I felt a jolt of excitement and couldn't stop myself from opening my knees as she pushed her shorts off and stepped out of them.

She watched me for a reaction, but my lack or response was enough. With shaking hands she pulled the hem of her tank top up over her head, and dropped the shirt on my bed. She looked away as she reached behind her back to undo her bra, but looked back at me as it came loose and she reached around to cup her breasts in her hands. Something she saw in my expression or how I was sitting or in the way I was breathing seemed to encourage her. She shrugged the straps off her shoulders and pulled her bra off, exposing her breasts like she was presenting me with treats; sweeties.

Since Sarah had left my room that Sunday morning, eyes downcast, mumbling excuses, I'd been angry and heartbroken and confused. I'd written her a half dozen emails, some wrathful, others loving. But at that moment, watching her drop her bra to the floor I was simply adoring Sarah, basking in her beauty, luxuriating in the stillness of the moment.

She swished her knees back and forth as she pushed her panties down with her thumbs, a shy smile curling the corners of her mouth.

I opened my legs further showing her my cunt, smoothing the bald flesh with my hands as she kneeled between my feet and bent her neck to kiss my open wet pussy, a charge blew through me as she put out her tongue and licked me.

I woke up gripping myself hard, jerking with an orgasm that cramped my feet.

I met with Sarah that afternoon. She did take guilty looks at the open bathroom door and I did give her back her stories with notes but then we sat across from each other on my bed and studied. We worked together for two hours, going over her final essays and drilling her on her test material. Afterwards I invited her to have dinner with me and asked her if she wanted to take over Hill House. I told her that I'd decided to stay for part of the summer, but she and her friends could have it in August - that that was when Don and the others were moving out as well. She almost fell out of her chair when I told her how cheap the rent was and that she could have all my furniture, even my bed.

"But won't you need your things?"

"I'm moving to Santa Clara."

"Where's that?"

"Near San Francisco... a little south?"

Her face crashed.

"But that's so far away..."

"Well, it's not the moon," I laughed.

"I just thought- I thought you'd stay around, that you'd be... nearer."

"Yeah, I don't know. My friend Zach - he graduated before you got here. He moved out there last year and is starting this thing and wants me to come work on it. He says the money is crazy and we can do anything we want. I'll be writing!"

"Wow, that's great," she agreed, but I could tell she was still absorbing the idea, that it had shocked her.

"You could always come visit," I joked. "Me and the hippies!"

Clearly I'd never been to San Francisco and had no idea what I was getting into.

Sarah checked in with me a lot during finals, with updates, with little questions, but mostly I think just hoping I'd invite her over or something. I didn't. I was too stung. She came to see me walk at graduation, afterwards I introduced her to my family but she started crying so hard I had to take her aside and comfort her. I sat her down on two abandoned folding chairs on the edge of the lawn and let her cry, rubbing her back and whispering to her.

"It's ok Sarah, everything is going to be fine."

"But it's not," she'd protested, her cheeks wet with hot tears, snot running over her lips. "I love you so much Rebekah."

The last words were almost unintelligible; lost to the heaves of her sobs. I held her and kissed her feverish brow and told her I loved her too, that we'd stay in touch and that we would always be friends.

"You made quite an impression on her," my mother said after Sarah had collected herself enough that she could make an awkward exit.

"She's really sweet."

It was as I was packing the last of my things when I found Sarah's panties under my bed. At first I thought they were mine, but when I stretched them out and looked at them I didn't recognize them. And then I did. I remembered Sarah kicked them off, remembered the wet mark on the crotch of her shorts, how wet she'd been as she'd masturbated. I brought them to my face and held them there and I fumbled with my shorts, and started fingering myself, frantic and fast, like Sarah.

* This story was updated with edits and submitted on 06/09/23. It's almost fifteen hundred words longer than the original text. The biggest change is I added a great deal to the climactic sex scene. The version posted on 04/21/22 is archived as "The Tutor"