Sara and Abby (Sara's Summer Abroad)

by C. E. Todd

  There was an artistic quality to the curve of Abby’s back, and Sara stared at it, mesmerized. She began to slide her hands slowly up and down Abby’s back, her fingers grazing the sides of Abby’s breasts. Sara grabbed Abby’s hips, pulling slightly, and smelled Abby’s scent as it wafted upward. Sara poured oil onto Abby’s ass, and watched the droplets slide languidly down Abby’s hips. Sara began to massage Abby’s ass.

  “Mmmm. That feels so good,” Abby cooed, closing her eyes, and pushing her ass up slightly.

  Sara’s thumbs slid into the middle of Abby’s ass, parting her cheeks slightly, and exposing Abby’s ass and pussy. There were three small droplets on the lips of Abby’s pussy. Sara smiled to herself as she slid her hands down Abby’s thighs.

  Suddenly, Abby flipped over, onto her back, and sat up, grabbing the bottle of oil. “Now, I want to show you.” Abby leaned back against the wall, her knees next to her face, as she poured the oil generously over her breasts. Sara watched it drip quickly down Abby’s tummy, into her crotch. Sara sat back, and pinched her nipples.

  Abby tossed the bottle to Sara. “Your turn,” Abby grinned. Sara took the bottle, and poured it over her breasts, rubbing them slowly. The feeling was electric. Sara arched her back, closing her eyes and moaning softly.

  When Sara opened her eyes again, she saw Abby, on her back, lifting her hips toward Sara. Abby’s two fingers eagerly slid in and out of Abby’s pussy, squishing loudly. Sara wondered if anyone would hear.

  Sara slowly encircled her swollen clit with her finger, stretching her legs out on the bed. When Sara looked up, she noticed Abby, her head lolled back, inching her hips slowly toward Sara.

  “Mmmmm,” Sara moaned softly. As Abby’s hips approached Sara’s face, Sara felt her heart race, and her pussy swell. Sara slid a finger inside.

  Abby began to moan rhythmically, in time with her fingers, as they pumped her pussy. Abby’s pussy was now inches from Sara’s face. Sara looked up, and startled a bit, but her body was beginning to tighten, and Sara was unable to show her surprise outwardly.

  “Oh, God, Abby, I’m going to come,” Sara hissed though half-whispered breath.

  Abby knelt onto her knees, her pussy still inches from Sara’s face. Sara noticed Abby’s lips begin to quiver slightly as Sara tugged hard against the upper wall of her pussy with her fingers. Sara’s stomach tightened immediately, and her heart raced as if it would pound out of her chest. When Sara’s thumb grazed her swollen clit, Sara felt her body letting go.

  “Mmmm….Oh…..fuck…..” Sara moaned, lost.

  Suddenly, Sara felt something moist against her lips. She opened her eyes, to see Abby’s pussy grinding against her mouth. Instinctively, Sara grabbed Abby’s hips, to help steady her. When Sara realized what was happening, she stuck her tongue out, darting inside Abby’s lips as Abby encircled her own clit.

  “That’s it, baby. This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” Abby whispered, grinding her pussy into Sara’s face

  Sara had never experienced this before. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint Abby. It tasted … different. Not odd, but just unique. Sara smiled to herself as she licked up, over Abby’s front wall, and Abby shuddered, grinding herself furiously against Sara.

  “Oh….God….Yes!” Abby screamed, her pussy quivering against Sara’s tongue. Apparently, Sara’s tongue was doing what it was supposed to. Sara became more assured, and began lapping hungrily at Abby’s pussy, as Abby moaned loudly, then suddenly collapsed onto the bed.

  “Damn,” Abby panted. “And I’m supposed to be the first woman you’ve ever been with?”

  “ ’fraid so, but I want to learn more,” Sara smiled. It was new, to bring someone to orgasm with her tongue. Sara felt empowered. This was something she didn’t realize she could do. It was heady to think that Sara could give this much pleasure just with her tongue.

  “Well, you’ve found just the right friend. I’m a great teacher, I’ve been told,” Abby offered, matter-of-factly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sara awoke the next morning, still naked. As she sat up, she realized how disappointed she was that Abby hadn’t stayed. Abby had left, saying she didn’t want to “raise any more suspicions.” Sara figured that anyone with a suspicion could simply stand in the hallway and hear Abby moaning, and have their suspicion confirmed easily. Maybe it was for the best. This was a six-week trip, after all, and it was important not to offend the Oxford hosts.

  Sara stumbled out of bed, and tugged her jeans on, and grabbed a white button-down shirt from the dresser. She looked at the clock – 6:00 a.m., her normal time to rise. She slipped into her sandals, and wandered out in to the courtyard, and then into the street. There was an eerie calm over the town. There was a slight chill in the air, and a dense fog. Sara ambled down the cobblestone sidewalk, thinking.

  Things sure had gotten more active lately; her first girl, her first professor, her first threesome. It was sort of a sexual global warming; her horizons were expanding so fast, they were being swallowed up by the heated ocean waters. Sara wondered whether she was discovering something about herself, or just having a fling. Usually, when she wondered whether one of two things caused a third, it turned out a combination of the two things was the actual cause. So, by that reasoning, Sara was discovering herself and having a fling. Nothing wrong with that, she supposed. On the other hand, what if she was a lesbian, and never really knew it? What if she were a slut, and never knew it? Sara stopped in front of the window of a pastry shop that was just opening up. The smell of the fresh baked goods enveloped her, and the owner waved for her to come inside.

  “Chill of a day out there, mate,” the fat man behind the counter greeted.

  “It is. But smelling your pastries makes up for it,” Sara smiled. Sara knew the owner appreciated her compliment. Sara was good at that; getting on someone’s good side quickly.

  “I’ll have a coffee and a cream-filled scone, thanks.” The owner quickly gathered the snack, and set them down at a small counter where Sara sat down.

  “I detect an American, eh?” the owner said.

  “Yes, I confess. I hope I don’t come across too boorish, or anything.”

  “Not at all, pet. You here at Oxford, studying?”

  “Yes. How did you know?” Sara asked.

  “I see a good lot of you, each summer. You’re looking a bit down in the dumps. Maybe you’ve done some things during this lark you aren’t sure of. There’s one or two each summer. It’s okay, pet. You’re here to broaden your horizons.”

  Sara looked at the owner quizzically. “You haven’t been on the ‘phone to my mother, have you?”

  The owner smiled, and held out his hand. “Devin’s the name. I been doing this for about twenty years or so. It’s a bit of a routine. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Just enjoy yourself. You American’s are too quick to guilt.”

  Sara shook Devin’s hand lightly. “Pleasure, Devin. And I suppose you’re onto something with the ‘too quick to guilt’ stuff. I do kind of feel guilty.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it takes experience to define yourself. Remember that. Let the experiences happen, and let them affect you how they may.”

  Sara bit into her pastry. It was still warm.

  “You know, it’s sort of ironic that I’m feeling guilty, and I happen across you, selling pastries, which only makes me feel like I’m indulging myself even more than I should.”

  “I know, lass. Believe it or not, that’s part of why I went into the business. People don’t indulge themselves enough. Life is short; made up of little moments. If you don’t take time to indulge yourself, it’s all over before you know it, and then, what’s the point?”

  Sara thought as she sipped her coffee, arriving at a conclusion. “Devin, you’re one of the wisest pastry chefs I’ve ever met.” She smiled broadly at him, thankful for his perspective, and reassured by the providence that caused her to encounter it. “I need to get ready for classes, but I think we’ll be friends.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, but I think we already are, lass,” Devin smiled. “You study hard.”

  * * *

  Sara sat down in the conference room, refreshed and eager to learn. Professor Evans introduced a Mr. Caldwell, a “solicitor”. Seems as though he was one of the “grunts” of the legal profession; the barristers tried all the cases, and the solicitors stayerd in their offices, tending to everything else. Sara worried sometimes that her life as a lawyer wouldn’t allow time for anything. A career as a solicitor was definitely out, then. The poor man regularly worked ten to twelve hour days, always behind a desk. Sara wondered if Mr. Caldwell understood this when he entered law school as a younger man.

  Abby leaned over toward Sara. “Missed you this morning at breakfast. Everything okay?” she whispered. Sara turned to her and nodded. “See me after class. We’ll talk over lunch.”

  After reviewing a few published cases that Mr. Caldwell had been involved in, class was dismissed, and the group headed for lunch.

  “So, what’s the deal,” Abby bounded out beside Sara.

  “I hadn’t done it in a while, so I got up early this morning, and took a walk. I met a very interesting pastry chef. Devin. HE was wise beyond his years. We had a good conversation over coffee. You should meet him. And you should stay over, too.”

  “Well, sorry. I wanted to, but I just don’t want to cause any trouble,” Abby confessed. “And I’m not much of a morning person. Maybe I’ll be able to drag myself out of bed one morning, and we can check this guy out.”

  “Maybe,” Sara smiled, and sat down at the long lunch table. Waiters filled her plate with lasagna immediately, and silently.

  “My, this is impressive,” Sara opined.

  “You bought it, so enjoy it,” Abby counseled.

  “Actually, my parents bought it.”

  “Well, you could just enjoy it anyway.”

  Meals were getting easier. Initially, Sara was bothered by all the fuss during mealtime. Everything was served impeccably, and immediately. Nothing in Sara’s life had ever been impeccable, or immediate. Why all the sudden did she deserve all this? Maybe she didn’t. Sara decided it wasn’t a lifestyle, but for the summer, it probably wouldn’t spoil her too badly.

  Sara spent the afternoon in the Bodlean, a beautiful library if ever there was one. It smelled wonderfully – of old books and dust. It was absolutely quiet, too. Sara found a study carol in a windowless corner, and lost herself in more Dworkin. Sara always enjoyed losing herself in a task. Things went faster, and good things just seemed to happen when she devoted herself thoroughly.

  Sarah finished her summary of the book, and got up to walk back to school. She walked past an art gallery, then the book store, a coffee shop, and Devin’s pastry shop. She stopped in to visit. Devin was behind the counter, and beamed when she entered.

  “Hello, lass. You look better. What can I do you for?”

  “I just wanted a cup of coffee, and I wanted to know if you’re always open early in the morning.”

  “Just a second.” Devin turned and set a cup of coffee onto the nearby counter. “Well, usually I’m up and here by six. I’ve gotten up at five since I had a paper route. I just can’t sleep past then anymore. Anyway, I’m here by six every Monday through Friday. Saturdays I stay for the morning with the kids, and I’m here by nine.”

  “Well, I might just bring a friend or two by. I think you have a good head on your shoulders, and I want some of my friends to meet you.”

  “You’re too kind, lass. Always welcome, but too kind.”

  * * *

  Dinner was remarkable. Just as Sara was allowing herself to be served in the manner customary to all who attend Oxford, she encounters this: an entire boys’ choir, singing at the end of the dining hall. The sound was new to Sara; innocent and haunting at the same time. Sara asked the wait staff, and discovered the choir was from the local church. Sara made a mental note to see if they were performing Sunday morning. It was beautiful beyond words for Sara, but she ate quietly, wondering whether she deserved it.

  Sara walked alone across the lawn after dinner, and heard Chopin playing in the distance. She recognized the tune, as one she adored, and one that Professor Evans had perfected. She walked toward the music, and knocked on the door of the piano room.

  “Can I …. Oh. Sara. I didn’t realize it was you.” Professor Evans peeked through the doorway.

  “Can I listen? I promise I won’t interfere.”

  Professor Evans smiled, and pulled a chair alongside the piano. “It’s good to see you, Sara,” he admitted.

  Professor Evans then launched into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” Sara closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. This was one of her favorite pieces, and Sara felt her heart swelling with emotion. The music elevated Sara, until she felt like she was floating through the night. Suddenly, Professor Evans launched into the second movement – a tone poem of a storm – and startled Sara from her reverie. Professor Evans played it expertly, his fingers dancing on the keys with a mind of their own, as Sara watched. She recognized this feeling – this heaviness in her heart. It was the same feeling she felt the night she and Professor Evans spent together. That was odd. Sara had often felt this way listening to music, but until now, her feelings for Professor Evans puzzled her. What was the connection between this music, and her feelings toward Professor Evans? Why did they feel the same? As Professor Evans launched into a slow rendition of “Amazing Grace,” Sara forgot her thoughts, and lost herself in the music.

  * * *

  Back in her room, Sara held her cell phone to her cheek, and listened for the ring. True to form, her mother answered on the first ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Mom? It’s me.”

  “Sara! Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear you. How are you?”

  “Well, I’m good. I’ve met a lot of new friends.” Little did Mother know.

  “How are your classes?” That was mother, always getting to the accomplishments.

  “They’re fine. They’re not hard at all. I just have to do a paper by the end of the term on legal philosophy. It’s not a big deal. They don’t grade it anyway; you just get comments back, apparently.”

  “Well, these people are the people you will compete against in law school, so take it seriously, please,” Sara’s mother cautioned. “So, are you making any friends?”

  Sara paused, half considering whether to tell her mother the entire truth – ‘Yeah, I fucked my professor, and Abby, the girl down the hall, and I had my first threesome’ – but Sara decided against it. “Yes, everyone here is quite friendly, and the staff here treats me very well.”

  “Well, good. Do you feel like your horizons are expanding?”

  Sara laughed to herself at this question, and its obvious answer. “Yes,” Sara deadpanned. “Yes, mother, this is very much a horizon-expanding experience. And thank you.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “You’re welcome, Sara. I just want the best for you.” Sara’s mother sounded like she was becoming emotional.

  “Is there anything you want me to get you, Mom, like a sweater, or some tea or something?”

  “No, dear. Just have a wonderful experience, and come home safe and tell me about it.”

  Sara said her goodbyes and sighed to herself. It wasn’t the normal conversation she and her mother had. Usually, mom was talking about how she hadn’t gotten into medical school because of her grades, and how important it was that Sara not repeat the same cycle. Maybe, now that Sara was going to law school, she would ease up a bit.

  * * *

  Sara heard a commotion in the hallway, and opened her door to see.

  Allen called to her, “Hey! We’re going to the art gallery. Wanna tag along?”

  Sara smiled, and walked out her door, locking it behind her. Everyone was there – Abby, Gwen, Tom, Steve, Marcia, and Allen. Allen seemed the leader of the group, generally, and led them out of the hallway, onto the sidewalk.

  Sara and Abby hu
ng back from the rest. Gradually, the group separated itself into females, who walked with Sara and Abby, and males, who walked up front, with Allen.

  Abby turned to Sara. “Hey, check that out. It’s kinda hot.”

  Abby nodded forward, toward the last man in the group ahead, Steve.

  “What?” Sara asked, a bit confused.

  “His ass, silly. Look at it. It’s beautiful. Or don’t you look at those sorts of things?”

  “Well, I do,” announced Gwen. A bit louder, she opined, “I do notice these sorts of things, and it is spectacular.”