Searching For

There's some unconventional morality here folks. So if infidelity is not your thing, you've been warned.

***

I was walking down the street on a Saturday morning wondering which coffee I would buy. I had a made a killing on a few deals at the end of the week and had celebrated the night before. So I was in recovery mode, a little hazy and slow on the reaction. But I had nothing much to do and a morning to kill. Something was happening in the street. I could sense a commotion coming towards me. I could feel it before I could hear or see it, probably in the stressed faces of the people walking towards me, walking quicker than they usually would. People who would avoid risks in their working lives and try to avoid conflict. Regular people who didn't know what they were missing. Something was approaching, but I reckoned that I could enjoy it if it was just something different. Or I could avoid it if it was truly dangerous. Hopefully, I could join in the fun. I quickly found that it wasn't going to avoid me.

It was a blonde woman in her underwear, she was only wearing pants and a bra. She was lurching at people asking them something. You could tell that she was probably in her twenties, she has the presence of a woman who had been aware of her body and how she could use it for enough years. The people moving towards me - men with women, women with small children, men pushing prams - decided that she had to be a threat to them in some way and veered away from her. I was by myself, alone on the footpath.

The women lurched up to me. I noted that she was a head shorter than me but muscular. "I'm searching for..." she shouted. She shouted what she was searching for but I could not work out what she was saying. She repeated it louder at me since I hadn't dodged away from her. "I'm searching for..." Again that word that I could not work out. She caught my eye, looked hard into me and frustratingly repeated herself.

Of course part of my brain was urging me to get away from her, but seeing that she had caught me, the others on the street were able to avoid her and continue whatever their journeys were in both directions. Their nice, uncomplicated lives. The woman was agitated but, I hastily decided, not dangerous. Although I couldn't say why I thought that I was safe from her. I knew I was safe.

Even when she grabbed my arm strongly and repeated herself.

"Searching for what?" I asked, trying to say it calmly as she gripped my arm in a way that told me that she was not going to let go without some indication from me that I was in on her quest.

She repeated the mush of sounds, so I still couldn't give her any satisfactory response. What if I guessed what she wanted so wrongly that she got wound right up.

No, I took the easiest route out. "I'll help you find it," I offered kind of neutrally.

Her eyes widened. "You know where [indecipherable] is?" I sensed I had given her hope. A little caution was a good idea.

"No," I said, "but I'll help you."

Why did I say that? I was on a coffee strip, in the street with a wild-eyed woman who was wearing only a bra and pants. Close up I noticed that she would be quite a looker if she was properly dressed and groomed. Her lanky blonde hair fell naturally straight, and her figure was trim but with enough plush to make her look enticing. If I was looking at her in any sexual way she did not give me a reaction either negative or positive. She was fixed on finding whatever it was. She wasn't looking for any sort of appreciation. I don't think she was interested in what sort of person I was. But now she had recruited someone into her quest, she was calmer. Her lurching in the street was, I guessed, desperation rather than mania or anything dangerous to her or anyone else.

"You'll help me?" she confirmed almost calm but with no connection or empathy.

"I'll help you," I repeated, still free from wondering why I was getting involved. "Here," I added, and took off the thin jacket I was wearing, good enough to break the cool of the breeze as we were nowhere near the warmth of the day.

Although she didn't seem to feel the coldness of the breeze, she woman let go of me to accept the jacket and put it on in a way that suggested she had no shame or concern at the flesh that she was displaying. She didn't try to button it up. Although the jacket covered her top adequately, it only went about half way down her thighs, so her pants were still more or less visible as were her bare legs.

"Do you know where it is?" I asked her.

She looked at my chest and shook her head.

"Is it near here?" I tried, but she looked at me blankly. "If it's far away I can drive you," I offered.

She gave me a nod in reply to that, and I got the sense that she did not bother to think of me other than someone who would help her.

"The car's at home," I told her. "We'll have to walk there. It's not far." Again she nodded. "This way," I told her, indicating the direction I had come from. Which happened to be the way that she was heading.

We left the coffee strip and had the footpath to ourselves as we walked side by side. She seemed to relax more as we walked although she kept looking straight ahead, never at me. She seemed to know where we were going without me having to tell her when to turn into the side streets. I thought she had calmed right down as we turned into my street but she suddenly became uncomfortable in the jacket, jerking her arms to straighten it or get it to sit right on her shoulders. She gave up on that and shrugged it off. She stopped walking and held it out for me to take back without looking at me or saying anything. I took the jacket and put it back on so that I still had both my hands free.

We walked on, one of us dressed and the other virtually naked yet unconcerned. "Almost there," I told her and in response she started to act uncomfortable in her bra, picking at the strap on her shoulder, flipping it and straightening it, then flicking it off her shoulder.

I had her inside before she removed her bra completely. Unperturbed about her display, she dropped the bra in my hallway and walked on deeper into the house.

"It's not here," she reported from the kitchen.

I followed her in there, to see her checking my cupboards and larder. "Are you hungry" I asked her.

In response she turned around to face me. For the first time I could admire her firm breasts and smooth skin. "Not hungry, no," she addressed me without emotion, "searching." She started to adjust the sides of her pants.

"That's not necessary," I told her.

She dropped them to the floor anyway. "You're right," she decided and walked up close to me. "Hold me here," she insisted.

I held the naked stranger in my arms and she pressed into my chest. I felt her soften and then grip me with her strength and some urgency.

"That's good," she said to my chest. "So long since I've hugged."

"How long?" I asked as she started to nuzzle under my neck and press as much of her body into me as she could.

"Ages," she whispered, "about a day." She began to push at my clothes clearly demonstrating that she wanted me naked too. First the jacket, then my shirt. I steered her into my bedroom, and she did not object.

Soon we were naked together, then I was on my back on the bed as she took my cock in her mouth and gave me a great blow job until I was strongly hard. She got up on the bed next to me, on her knees staring at my bedhead. Without looking back at me she instructed me "fuck my arse, he won't let you near my cunt."

This got me harder, but still I asked "not your cunt?"

"He says my cunt is only for him. He never says anything about my mouth or my arse. So you can fuck my arse."

All the time she was fixed on the bedhead on her knees, her legs spread, so I could make out her slightly wide hips, the curve of her buttocks and how exposed she was. I started to lube her up, playing the tight ring of her anus with my fingers to her apparent enjoyment.

"Take me hard," she instructed. So I did. She was receptive as I drove deep into her as she wanted. She was groaning and pushing back onto me as we found the right rhythm. We went at it again and again until she instructed me to come inside her. I was so pent up, I came strongly again and again as she urged me, yes, yes, yes.

She lolled onto her side with me still in her, as we spooned with her determinedly looking away at the wall. Eventually she let me out.

"Do you need to nap?" she asked as she stood up and looked at me. "Sometimes he naps."

"I'll stay here for a moment, but I'm good," I smiled at her. She didn't smile back.

She looked at me like an examination. "Your skin's so pure," she observed. She pivoted on one foot in a way that made her look cute. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asked so I gave her directions. She turned in the doorway. "Don't worry, I won't rob you," she said as she laughed for the first time.

I found some clothes of mine for her, a T-shirt she could wear loose and a pair of my old jeans. She had to roll up the legs of the jeans, but she looked pretty good in the way that she filled out into my clothes.

We got into my car, and fortunately she sat in the passenger seat next to me, not the back seat as I had feared, so it would be easier for me to communicate with her. "Which way?" I asked, but she shrugged, so I headed off in the general direction from where I had found her.

We drove around for a while with her unable to give me any clear idea of where we should be headed or what we were looking for. However, she seemed satisfied that we were doing the right thing. Although I could sense she was getting tense again. So I continued driving her, acting unfussed.

"I can take you home," I suggested especially as the long shadows of the afternoon suggested that the sun would be soon down and we would be meandering in the dark. She didn't respond to that so we drove on in silence as I waited hopefully for a cue.

She looked ahead into the setting sun. "I can't go there at the moment," she told me eventually in a flat manner that said there was no point pressing the subject with her.

Suddenly she gripped my arm in her hand. "Here!" she insisted and I stopped the car. We sat in silence for some moments. I waited for her to say or do something. But she sat and stared straight out the front window for a while.

Then she spoke. "I liked the fuck," she spurted, at last.

"I did too," I smiled.

And she opened the door, got out of the car and walked away. I drove home.

**

The next Saturday, as if ordained, I saw her on the coffee strip walking towards me with someone who definitely was not like me. He was tall and wide, head shaved, and intricately tattooed on both forearms. She was wearing my T-shirt and jeans and seemed engaged in his conversation but she turned in time to recognise me. She smiled at me in a way that eased my apprehensions. She was warm, bright and friendly.

"This is the guy," she told her companion excitedly. They walked right up to me.

He looked down at me with a broad smile. "You're the guy," he exclaimed and shook my hand.

She leaned over close to me. "I hope I wasn't too much trouble," she mouthed into my ear.

"Well you did let me rail you up the arse," I smiled.

The big guy looked at me. I had obviously said that too loudly. But he smiled broadly and nodded at me in a friendly way. "You did stay away from the cunt?" he checked.

"As far away as I could," I confirmed. And the woman nodded as if that would help.

He made to move at me then moved back. "Well," he said.

And they walked on.