0 comments/ 128283 views/ 4 favorites End Game By: Chicklet I swore under my breath as Jason sat calmly across from me, waiting for my move. He released a long, steady breath. I saw the edge of his mouth twitch, his lips smiling slightly. He saw something I didn’t see, and I knew it. This was the part of the game I was worst at, the end, when I had very few pieces left. He didn’t have many pieces himself; we were actually evenly matched…for now. My heartbeat quickened as Jason reached for his rook, moving it two spaces to the left of my bishop. He pulled his hand away and I scanned the board. There were only a couple of places I could move to get away from his rook, but not fall victim to his own bishop. Tentatively I picked up the cold black plastic, lifting it from the board and slowly setting it down on the square diagonal to his rook. I was out of that piece’s way, and there was no way it could take my own rook. Looking at Jason’s face, I began to release my piece, my hand moving back towards my side of the table. There was more at stake in this game than the measly plastic king, and my backside ached just thinking about it. It seemed as though I had made the stupidest mistake of all, and one of Jason’s pawns marched proudly towards the front line. None of my pieces were in any position to stop it, and all I could do was get my rook over to where it could stop the inevitable queen. Too hastily I moved my rook aside, leaving my king naked and alone in the corner of the board. Jason looked at me, shook his head slightly with a smile on his lips, and moved his rook. I was stunned. “Check mate, I think,” Jason said. I looked up into his smirking face. “Goddamnit,” I swore. “That wasn’t fair.” “Why not?” he said, his full red lips stretching across his face in a satisfied grin. “I won, fair and square. You just try to prove otherwise.” “Goddamnit,” I repeated, standing up and storming away from the table. My face felt like it was on fire. Fear that had swollen in my belly as the game had gone on and on was finally coming to the surface, and I felt tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind me. “Sarah,” I heard from outside the door. Refusing to acknowledge him, I sat down on the toilet and buried my face in my hands. The tears were really flowing now, hot streams of the liquid running down my face. It had been stupid to make this deal anyway, but I guess I didn’t always make the right decisions. “Listen, Sarah,” Jason said, his voice a little quieter and calmer. “I didn’t seriously expect you to go through your side of the deal anyway. I know you, okay, and I know that that wasn’t the sort of thing you’d agree to.” Suddenly some of my fear turned to anger. “You assumed I would break my end of the deal?” I shouted at him. “Well, aren’t you?” he said, a sneer in his voice. “Come on out, we’ll go to a movie.” Something inside me felt uncomfortable. A movie is what I had wanted, it was what I would have claimed as my prize if I had won the game of chess. But I had lost, and by rights I should be giving him his prize, but instead I was receiving my prize anyway. I felt cheap, and awful. “I’m sorry, Jason,” I said softly. I wiped the tears away from my face, sniffing loudly and reaching for a tissue. “You really want to go to a movie?” “No,” he said, a little bit of anger coming through the thick door. “But I don’t want you to be mad at me all night.” I didn’t move, just sat there thinking. My head was throbbing, and I knew a killer headache was on its way. I should probably lay down and go to sleep a little early, but I wanted to see a movie… “Come on,” I heard. “Get out of there, okay? Just talk to me.” Sniffing again I stood and opened the door. It swung inwards and I took a step back to let it open all the way, then I sat back down on the toilet. Jason was scowling down at me, but I kept my head in my hands, refusing to look him in the face. “We can do it later, okay?” I suggested. “You won, so we’ll do it. But, later, okay?” “Right,” Jason said. I could tell by his tone that he didn’t believe me. Honestly, I didn’t know if I believed myself. Sometimes I seemed to have a way of pushing things so far that I didn’t even know what was true anymore. “I’m sorry,” I said again, sniffing for drama. This time Jason didn’t say anything, just stood silently as I rubbed my face with my hands. Cracking my fingers open, I peered up at him. He was still scowling, and I shivered at the look in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I love you.” He didn’t reply. Frowning I looked down again, playing the part of the victim. “Can you just hold me? I don’t feel good.” “Sarah,” Jason started. He stopped and didn’t say anything, just shook his head and walked out of the bathroom. I sat there a few moments feeling sorry for myself before my emotions started conflicting. On the one hand, I was scared to death about what I had promised to do if I lost at chess. But on the other hand I didn’t want him to think that I was going back on my word. “Jason?” I called out once, then again a little louder. I didn’t hear him respond. Pushing myself up from the toilet seat I ventured out into the apartment in search of my boyfriend. “Jason?” I called again, poking my head around doorways to see if I could find him. He was in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face. “Baby,” I moaned. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond. Frustrated I walked in front of him and sank to my knees, looking up at his impassive face from my place on the floor. “Baby,” I said again. “I love you and I’m sorry.” “You’re always sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound angry, which was a plus, but he sounded sad. “You know how many times you’ve gone back on this? I knew tonight would just be another one. For some reason I keep playing your games…but this is the last time, okay? I won’t play anymore.” I felt the tears in my eyes again, and I leaned forward, taking his legs in my arms and hugging them close to my chest. “Baby,” I whimpered. “Please don’t be mad at me. I love you…I’m just scared.” Softly I kissed the leg of his jeans, the rough fabric rubbing against my wet lips. I pushed my forehead against his knee and rubbed it lightly, kissing his leg again. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “It’s okay,” Jason said, but his voice was the same; sad. He put his hand down in my hair and stroked it softly. I closed my eyes and smiled, the feel of his large hand on my head comforting me. “But I’m serious, you know?” “I know,” I said, but I didn’t really. I heard what he was saying, but it didn’t register in my brain that he meant what he said. He said this every time. “I think,” he said, and paused. I heard him take a deep breath and his hand stopped playing with my hair. “I think we need some time apart.” I stopped rubbing my face against his leg. Not looking at him, just sitting there with my cheek pressed against the denim, I frowned. The tears that had so recently dried began to form again, and I choked back a sob. “What do you mean?” I asked, stupidly. Jason lived with me; where would he go to have some time away from me? “I mean,” he said, his voice shaking a little bit, “That I think I should go visit my parents for a while. I’ll still pay my half of the rent this month, and the bills…I know you can’t afford to take care of it yourself…but I just think we need some time apart.” “Are you breaking up with me?” I said, trying to control my voice. I didn’t want to get hysterical, which I knew from experience was bound to happen. No matter how hard I tried to control my anger and fear it always surfaced, and I always ended up screaming my head off before the night was over. “I don’t know,” he said, and his hand left my head completely. That weight lifting seemed to be the last straw to my emotions. I began to cry in earnest, clinging to his leg as I babbled incoherently. “Don’t leave me,” I kept repeating. “Please, Jason, don’t leave me!” “Sarah,” he sighed, putting his hand back on my head. When I felt the weight there, comforting me, I stopped my whimpering, but could not stop clinging to his leg. “Let’s just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk about this in the morning.” I nodded against his leg and released him so that he could stand up. “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to me. Not meeting his face I took his hand and allowed him to help me up. Clinging to his hand I walked with him to the bedroom, where I stepped out of my clothes easily and crawled naked into our large bed. Jason turned out the light and joined me under the cool sheets, his own body still covered in his t-shirt and briefs. I felt alone, even with the warmth radiating from his skin, and I pressed myself close to him. My eyes were shut, my tears had stopped, but I could not stop my heavy breathing. Fear seemed to be filling me entirely, and I wrapped my body around his for comfort. Settling my leg over his crotch, my arms around his chest, and my head on his shoulder I sniffed loudly and tried to sleep. His steady breaths, his chest rising and falling, his heartbeat filling my ears, seemed to take me over completely. My conscious needed me to follow through on this promise. If only I could submit to his needs, put my selfishness and own fears aside, then he would be happy and my mind would be clear. But it was impossible for me to admit out loud. Finally I fell into a dreamless sleep. $$$ I woke up to something hard pressing against my bottom. The room was filled with light, the sun already well on its way up the sky. I looked at the clock, my vision taking a moment to focus before I could read the digital seven. A while yet before either of us had to go to work then, I thought to myself, and pressed my body closer to his. Sometime during the night we had shifted into a spooning position, my back against his front and his arms clasped tight around me. I could feel the rough fabric of his shirt against my skin, and the bulge in his briefs against the back of my thighs, the thick member prodding against the rear entrance to my sex. He moaned softly in his sleep, hugging me tighter, and I closed my eyes, a smile forming on my lips. I felt safe in his arms, easily forgetting the fight we’d had the night before. He had probably forgotten it, too. Last night hadn’t been the first time we had argued. It hadn’t even been the first time we had argued about this particular subject. Jason had this urge to have me in a way no other man had taken me. I hadn’t been a virgin when we had met, and I thought that sometimes he felt badly about that. He wanted to go where no man had gone before, so to speak, but I was too scared to let him. Time and time again I had agreed to try this alternate form of sex, a thing I knew he fantasized about often. On the one hand I wanted to please him, to let him be my first, and to share a new experience with the man I loved. But on the other hand I was so frightened…my friends said that I’d worked myself up over it, put my mind in a little state of frenzy that I wouldn’t be able to get around. If I had done it to myself, given myself this mental wall, then I regretted it, but I didn’t know how to get past the barrier in my head. For some reason, almost every week I thought I could go through with it, and I would promise Jason again that this would be the night. But so far I’d chickened out each time, and Jason was getting very negative about the whole thing. I didn’t blame him, really…if I said I was going to do it I should just do it. Behind me, Jason made a soft noise in his sleep that made me smile. His body was so soft against mine, all except one part of it. I nuzzled back, turning my head and kissing his shoulder softly through his shirt. He moaned again and loosened his arms slightly around me. Smiling, I thought to myself how lucky I was to have him. I turned around in his arms, facing him, my bare body scratching against his t-shirt. Slowly I moved my hand down, between our bodies, until I was gripping his member through his briefs. Jason parted his lips slightly and groaned. I wasn’t sure he was still entirely asleep. In my hand his cock stirred, blood making it swell a little larger, and it pushed against the waistband of his briefs. Feeling generous I moved my fingers and pulled the elastic out of the way, releasing the head of his member from the briefs. Loosening his arms around me even more, Jason thrust his hips slightly forward, rubbing the soft head of his cock against my bare belly. Slipping down his body I moved myself under the sheets, the darkness of the bed making me almost blind. But I had my hands to direct me towards my target, and I found his thick cock with my lips. Softly I kissed the tip, tasting the sour flavor of the early morning erection. Jason moaned, above me, and pushed his cock gently closer to my face. Shutting my eyes I rubbed my lips against the exposed head. The rest of his cock seemed to be aching for release, and slowly I peeled his briefs down his thighs, all the while kissing and licking at the head. Soon it was wet with my saliva, my tongue slickly moving back and forth across the round head. Jason lifted his waist to help me get his underwear off, and I left them there at his feet. Free of the briefs his cock bobbed happily. I could feel the engorged head pulsing with his desire. This was the place I felt most powerful, between his legs, my mouth on his cock. Every ounce of his pleasure could be controlled or denied from this position, and a moan escaped my throat as I thought of this. Opening wide, I took his whole length into my body, swallowing him whole. Quickly I moved off, not able to deep throat for long. I wanted him to just get a taste of my throat and of the pleasures I could possibly bring him. Taking his head into my mouth I sucked softly, lapping at the soft underside of him with my long tongue. He moaned again and thrust further into my mouth, but this is where I was in control, and I easily moved so only the head of his cock was getting any of my tongue’s massage. I knew he was awake, and his hard-on was so thick it was nearly to the bursting point. My lips tightened around the head and I sucked hard, pulling his cock and pushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. With the tip of my tongue I prodded at the tiny hole at the end, tasting a salty drop of fluid as Jason moaned again. My hands shifted underneath me and I reached for his balls, cupping the warm globes and rubbing them softly through the silky scrotum. The skin tightened and loosened as I toyed with the sensitive areas, and my lips stretched into a smile around Jason’s cock as I continued to suck on him softly. There was no real intensity to this blowjob, just a nice laid back relaxation as I allowed him to feel the sweetness of my mouth. I knew that this kind of contact drove my boyfriend wild, always making him want more. He could only take it for so long before he wanted to finish, and this leisurely sucking wouldn’t provide him the right stimulation to climax. Closing my eyes I concentrated on taking him into my throat again, teasing him one more time before I knew he would take control. While I liked to have power over him for a little while, it was always exciting when he took it back from me. Sure enough, as soon as I felt the round head poking at the back of my throat, I felt Jason’s large hands gripping my hair. Almost gently he gripped my hair and my head, forcing my mouth to remain on his cock long after I would have pulled away. Making a small choking sound in my throat, I tried to move off, but didn’t get very far before his hands pushed me back down. I closed my eyes and allowed him to move me how he liked for a couple of minutes, timing the strokes himself, his large cock pumping into my mouth as I struggled to lick at it between thrusts. Expecting him to do this until he came, I was surprised when his hands let go of my head and his hips fell back onto the bed. Lifting my head from the sheets I looked at him questioningly, panting for breath as I questioned him. “You okay?” I asked, softly. He nodded, his eyes closed, and put his hands behind his head. I assumed that he was still angry about last night. I was after forgiveness, and I pressed my naked body against his. My breasts were flattened between our bodies, my slightly hard nipples brushing against his skin as I lay next to him. Softly I began to kiss his cool skin, nibbling at his shoulder and running my tongue over the smooth flesh. I gripped Jason’s cock in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it, and began to lightly stroke the hard staff. Jason’s eyes shut lightly, his long dark lashes resting on his smooth cheek as I toyed with his hard cock. His erection wasn’t going down and his chest was moving up and down with his heavy breaths. “Do you want to fuck me?” I whispered throatily into his ear. Taking the soft lobe between my teeth I nibbled on him teasingly and repeated the question. “I want you to fuck me,” I said. “I want to feel your cock inside of me, baby. Can you do that for me?” Jason nodded and I rolled onto my back, taking a deep breath as he rolled on top of me. I spread my legs and he nestled between them, taking my calves in his hands and nearly sitting up to place himself in my warm folds of flesh. I groaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure at his first thrust. I was damp, but not wet or well lubricated. The feel of his hard cock inside my body was a grinding one, and I flinched as he began to move in and out. Knowing from experience that soon the thrusts would become easier, and my pleasure would soon mount as much as his, I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, and pushed my body down onto his staff. “You okay?” Jason asked. I knew he could see the pain in my face. “I’m sorry,” I said, hating myself for ruining the mood. Stopping his thrusts but remaining inside me, Jason looked down at me until I opened my eyes. I smiled weakly at him, my chest heaving as my body gripped him tightly between my legs. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” “I…”I trailed off. “I do, though,” I admitted. “I think about it…I play with myself…that way. I just…I get scared, do you understand?” I couldn’t meet his eyes. My breaths came in short gasps as I struggled to keep my eyes away from his. I didn’t want to see the hurt or the pain in them. Jason nodded slowly, his piercing eyes never leaving my face. I swallowed deeply and shifted uncomfortably on the cock impaling me. “Maybe,” I said softly, closing my eyes. “Maybe I just need you to force me.” “Force you?” Jason said. I could hear the dry humor in his voice. “I don’t know,” I said, turning my face upwards and glaring at him. I struggled underneath his body, pulling myself off him and curling into the fetal position. I shut my eyes tight and tried to block him out, telling him in my own way that the conversation was over. Seeming to take the hint, Jason rolled off the bed. I heard his footsteps as he walked through the bedroom door, and opened my eyes to see him turn into the bathroom. The lock clicked and the shower turned on, the sound of the water hitting the tub reverberating through the apartment. Uncurling myself from my defensive position I glared at the ceiling, cursing myself under my breath. In my opinion I wasn’t a bad person, but some of the decisions I had been making lately didn’t do much to help my relationship. My guilt seemed to be pushing to the surface like the pressure of a volcano, and I was afraid that soon its eruption would mark the end of my relationship. Jason was so right to be upset with me, but for some reason I couldn’t go through with the only action that would make things right again. End Game I almost hoped that he would force me to do it. At least then it wouldn’t be my decision to make. I turned over on the bed, burying my face in the pillows and struggled to keep the tears from escaping me again. My mind was pure turmoil, and I didn’t like it. Shutting out the rest of the world, I tried to doze off again. $$$ When Jason came out of the shower it was as if he’d forgotten about the whole problem. I prodded him, trying to get him to discuss it with me, but he changed the subject as though he were oblivious. Maybe I should have been grateful that he was willing to drop it, but instead it only made me more tense and upset. “I have to go to school, baby,” he said, bending down and giving me a short kiss on the forehead. “See you later.” And then he was gone, and the apartment was empty. Time passed slowly until it was time to go to work, and I left the house. The workday, or evening I should say, slugged along as usual, and soon it was time to go home. When I got home Jason was on the computer, and again apparently oblivious to anything I had to say about our argument the night before. Shrugging it off, I went into the living room and watched some T.V. Eventually I heard Jason turn off his computer and shut the door to the bedroom. Hitting the power button, I followed him into the bedroom. “Are you mad at me?” I asked him, shutting the door behind me. Jason didn’t even look up. “No,” he said. “Why would I be mad at you?” “I’m just wondering cause it’s like we haven’t talked all day.” “We talked,” he protested, still not looking up. He sat down on the side of the bed and began unlacing his shoes. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Will you just look at me?” I whined. Jason looked up, his eyes blank, his face almost expressionless. I almost wished there were even something bad there, anger, frustration, anything except that blank look. “Babe,” I said. “Please?” “Please what?” Jason said, looking away and kicking off the first of his shoes. “Talk to me.” “I thought we were talking,” he said, an infuriating tone in his voice. “Christ,” I swore, putting my hands in my hair. I felt like pulling it out strand by strand I was so frustrated. “Just fucking talk to me!” “Hey,” he said, “Don’t swear at me. I’m not doing anything wrong.” “Fine,” I said curtly, turning around and leaving the room. I slammed the door so hard behind me that it bounced back open, but I didn’t turn back to shut it again. Slamming another door, I locked myself in the bathroom, and filled the tub with steamy water. “Hey,” I heard from outside the door. “You don’t need to go sulking like a baby. Come on out, let’s go to sleep.” “I’m not tired,” I shouted, angry. I couldn’t even put a finger on what exactly was making me so angry. Frustration seemed to be tugging at every part of my body. It was almost as if I wanted to have an argument, to shout, to scream, and then to make up. “Then let’s do something,” he suggested. I tried to hear a yearning in his voice, to feel that he really wanted to do something else, but it was more like he was humoring me than anything else. “Like what?” I said, shutting off the water so that I could hear him better. “I don’t know,” Jason muttered. “Want to play chess?” “No,” I said, turning the water back on. “What about a movie?” he suggested. I turned the water off again, unlocked the door, and peered around the wood at him. “Really?” I said. Going to the movies sounded excellent, even if it was late. That was what I had wanted to do last night, but when I lost at chess the option had been rather wiped out. “Yeah, but I get to pick it.” Carefully I stood up, putting my hand on the door. Just a thin layer of wood between us, but it felt like an immeasurable distance. Slowly, I turned the knob. Jason was standing on the other side of the door, as close to the frame as I stood. He smiled weakly at me. “Come on, baby. Let’s just go and forget about this, okay?” “Can we forget about it?” I asked. I doubted it. This was something he wasn’t going to let me forget…or maybe my conscience wasn’t going to let me. “Yeah, we can forget about it. Let’s go.” I nodded and went outside with him to the car. We saw an action picture that I had heard was terrible, and it lived up to its reputation. I didn’t get any enjoyment out of the entire two-hour flick, but instead sat feeling guilty about the fact that we were out at all. As much as I liked to get my way, it seemed wrong…it was wrong, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to right it. In the car again, I sat staring out my window, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I fought to hold them in, ashamed. “Are you okay?” Jason asked, knowing that I was not. “Yeah,” I lied, and Jason knew I lied. We drove back home in the silence that had been lingering all day. Jason pulled the car into the driveway and I reluctantly got out. Home meant that our momentary truce would be over, and the fighting would undoubtedly begin. I walked through the front door and looked around slowly as Jason made his way in beside me. “I guess I’m going to bed,” he said. There was no enthusiasm in his voice. That made me feel a little bit worse. “Do you want to play chess first?” I asked, my eyes following him as he put his coat in the closet. He paused and looked over his shoulder at me briefly before shrugging my suggestion off. “Nah,” he said. “I’m not in the playing mood.” “I’d really like to,” I said, softly. “I will make it worth your while.” Jason turned around and looked at me, his coat in one hand the hanger in the other. “What do you mean?” he asked. “If play with me, I will give you the best oral sex you’ve ever had in your entire life.” “That sounds like an excellent proposal,” he said. I smiled. “What will you do if I beat you?” “Anything you want,” I said slowly. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to see his expression. I wondered if I was lying to myself again, and hoped that I wasn’t. “I don’t know,” Jason said, a bit stiffly. “You have a history of backing out of such proposals.” “I swear to god,” I said, still looking at the floor. I looked up and met his eyes, swallowing hard. “Please play with me?” Turning back around and putting his coat in the closet for real this time, Jason nodded. “Set up the board,” he said. I almost scurried to the table and put the pieces in their places. Pawns in front, rooks, castles, bishops and the royalty. Sitting across from me, Jason began the game by moving a pawn forward, freeing his queen and bishop. I made a similar move on my side of the board, waiting to see what Jason would do with it. He released his knight, putting my pawn in danger. I moved my knight, protecting my pawn. On and on the game went. At first it seemed that I was ahead, a knight ahead to be exact. Jason had to make a few tough decisions to get himself out of my way, but he came out on top, as usual. I moved my knight, and Jason smiled. I hadn’t seen the rook across the board. Pinned by the rook and a bishop, my queen was taken out by a knight, hopping over the few remaining pieces to eliminate my favorite power piece. I knew that two rooks were just as good as a queen, but one of my rooks was long gone, the other practically trapped in a corner by two of my boyfriend’s pieces. I mourned her passing, just as I feared what her capitulation meant for me tonight. My rear positions were in mortal danger; my king, and my virgin asshole both. “Well,” Jason said smugly. “Do you give up?” “Never,” I said, smiling. I fought hard for survival, but in the end it was impossible to win. It was between my king, my bishop, and Jason’s two rooks. He pinned me easily, and with a sigh I knocked my king aside. “Good game,” Jason said, and I could hear the pleasure in his voice. “I really thought you were going to win there for a while.” My breaths came heavier and I refused to look Jason in the eye. My hands were shaking, my whole body trembling. For the life of me I did not want to do what I knew was inevitable. My whole being urged me to run for the bathroom again, the safety of the white tiled walls and the porcelain tub. I think that Jason must have sensed my feelings, and he watched as I slowly stood up from the table. “Where do you think you’re going?” he said, a little bit coldly, the humor in his voice from his win quickly draining away. “I need to pee,” I said lamely, backing the chair slowly from the table. In a flash Jason was up and next to me, his tall frame shadowing mine, his eyes glaring down at me. “Don’t you dare break your promise again,” he hissed, his lips hard. Gulping, I shook my head. “Seriously, I just need to pee.” “You can pee after.” “I gotta go now,” I whimpered, taking a step away from him. His arms darted out and wrapped around me, pulling my body close to him in an intense embrace. There was the loving sense, but also the definite fact that he wouldn’t let go. “Let me go,” I said, helplessly. “You’re going to live up to this promise,” Jason said, and he bent down to kiss my lips, hard. Struggling, I pushed away from him. His arms held me tight to his body, my face locked upwards. The flesh of my lips was bruising, and I could tell. Roughly he pried my mouth open with his tongue and invaded my oral cavity, lapping at the inside. Shaking my head, I broke away finally, gasping for breath and turning my face to the side. “Let me go!” I demanded, struggling more. Jason just stood there, like a rock, holding me. “Let me go god damn you!” I swore, hitting his chest with my fists. No movement. Finally I stood limp in his arms, tears at the edges of my eyes. “Are you going to fight me?” Jason asked, his grip around me unyielding. “No; I promised and I’ll follow through,” I said, a tear falling out of my eye and making its way down my cheek. I was surprised that more didn’t follow. I felt a fear in the pit of my stomach that I’d never felt before, but also something that lingered on the edge of excitement deep in my belly. “Okay, then.” Jason slowly released me, and I took a few steps away from him, looking up into his face. He didn’t look angry, he looked calm, but his lips weren’t smiling. “Do you want it in the bedroom? Why don’t you take your shirt off first, then your pants?” Reluctantly I reached for my shirt, tugging it over my head. My bra remained on, but for the most part my top was exposed to him. I was still wearing the majority of my clothes and yet I felt more bared than I ever had before. “The bra, too, then let’s go,” he smiled, happy that I was following through. I swallowed hard. I didn’t bother protesting; I knew that it wouldn’t do any good. My mind swirled with fear and anxiety, a worrisome combination that I didn’t like. Slowly I stood, avoiding his eyes because I knew he would be able to read my plans. My only chance of escape would be to lock myself in the bathroom until his anger with me faded, in the usual manner of our arguments. I couldn’t help myself after all; I fled. Spinning on my heels I sped towards the bathroom. My short legs seemed to be frantically searching for holds on the floor as I ran around the corner. The sound of Jason’s heavy footsteps matched the pounding of my heart as my hands gripped the knob of the bathroom door. Success. It seemed that my relief of reaching the bathroom was short lived, because a hard hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. Squeezing my eyes tight, I faced my boyfriend, too afraid to look into his angry eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he said, and I was surprised by his calm, almost humored, voice. I would have expected him to be angry, and I opened one eye to look at him questioningly. He was, in fact, smiling somewhat sheepishly at me. “The fun’s just started.” “Jason,” I said, trying to keep my voice from quaking. “Seriously, I can’t, do you understand?” “You can,” he said, still smiling. “You just won’t. Isn’t that what you’re saying?” I whimpered and looked away again, but his fingers seemed to be digging insistently into my tender flesh. “Seriously, Jason,” I said, my voice whining in a way that I hated, but didn’t seem able to control. “Please, seriously…” “It’s okay, Sarah,” Jason said, his voice kind. But his hand didn’t release any of the pressure on my shoulder. “Just come into the bedroom with me, alright?” Shaking my head, I began to get frightened. My eyes darted from side to side, looking at anything but his smiling face. With a quick tug that I hoped would catch him by surprise I yanked my arm sharply, silently pleading to be let go. His hand held tight, though, and I accomplished nothing but bruising myself perhaps a little in the struggle. Jason began to tug me down the hall, towards our bedroom. I cried out but I didn’t protest with words, tugging steadily even as I was dragged over to the bed. Pinning my wrists behind my back easily with one of his hands, Jason pushed me over the foot of the bed, my posterior positioned upwards in his direction. “Relax, baby,” Jason cooed, his grip still tight despite the soothing tone in his voice. I struggled to remain calm, urging my breaths to come steadily, my chest pumping full of air and letting it all out before taking the next. I felt my boyfriend position himself between my legs, spreading my thighs with his knees until I was splayed as far as I could go. Through my pants I felt his free hand caressing the crotch of my jeans, rubbing intently over the seam that hid my clit from him. My clit was being ground roughly, but it still stimulated me enough to incite a soft moan from between my lips. I shut my eyes tight and moved my hips, trying to get away from his hand. The feeling wasn’t exactly pleasure, but it certainly didn’t feel bad. It hurt in an intense way but at the same time it was making me want more. Unable to stand the feelings I struggled again, tugging at my wrists at the same time that I bucked my hips, trying to get away from his body, but he held me still. “Stay still,” he said, softly again, the grinding slowing down into a steady movement. I panted and shook my head back and forth, finally burying my face in the blanket. I whimpered and pushed my hips back, allowing him easier access to my covered slit. I moaned against my own will as my body rubbed against the bed. The feeling of my boyfriend pressing against me overwhelmed me, and I found myself drifting into a thoughtless state. This was the way it had to happen, I told myself. The hand stopped its attentions and moved underneath my pelvis, feeling for the button a zip of my fly. I moaned again as I felt the waist of my pants moving down my legs. Jason had to push my thighs back together to slide them down my body, and a draft of cool air hit my wet slit as I was bared in front of him. Gently, Jason caressed my bare bottom, smoothing the skin with the palm of his hand. His fingers teased my flesh, kneading it softly, and slowly pushed the cheeks apart. I tensed instantly, tightening my muscles and whimpering again. My most private place was exposed to the man I loved, and I didn’t want it that way. Jason’s hands slipped down from my buttocks between the crux of my legs, caressing the slit there softly. I was wet from the earlier stimulation and moaned as he began to slide his finger along the warm flesh, stroking it until it was hard and even more sensitive than before. His thick middle finger dipped into the slick fluids gathering in pools so deep they almost dripped down my thighs, and he spread the wetness up my crack further and further until his finger was rubbing the slick lubrication around my puckered, private hole. I pushed my face harder against the mattress, struggling to block out the things that were happening to my body. My pussy felt swollen with arousal, but my bottom was telling me that bad things were about to happen. Fear had peaked, and I was breathing heavily. Jason’s hand still clasped my wrists tightly, pinning me in place, and I couldn’t even struggle for fear that he would take more drastic measures to keep me there. The fingers slid down my crack again to my pussy and gathered more of my wetness, spreading it again at my anus, and this time they lingered there as I bent before him, my ass up in the air, presented to him like some sort of reluctant offering. My tightly closed eyes flinched as I felt his warm finger press softly against my bud, wriggling and pushing slightly until the tip of it was inside me. This wasn’t my first invasion; I’d fingered myself there before. But I always felt so dirty and ashamed, afraid to share this experience with anyone, even the man that I loved so much. Jason seemed to know what I was feeling, and he pulled his finger out almost instantly, petting my bottom in a comforting but almost condescending way. I whimpered as he spread my cheeks again and pressed his finger there once more, prying it open further and putting his finger nearly all of the way inside me. Jason paused, his finger inside me, and started to twist it inside my body. I gasped as the tip of the object toyed with my insides, the finger seeming unreasonably thick, but I knew that compared to other parts of his body, it was small. A warm feeling spread in my belly as Jason prodded at me, a strange feeling that might have been arousal, but was so mixed with my humiliation I couldn’t even tell. I opened my eyes briefly, tugged at my wrists one more time, but still could not free myself. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, struggling to keep the feelings directed towards arousal, instead of the other options. The finger slid out of me and I felt Jason’s whole hand slide down my slit, gathering all the fluid there, even as my body produced more. There was no denying that I was wet. Usually by the time we started actual physical contact my fluids had dried up, causing me pain as we went further. For some reason this experience was keeping the juices coming, and I thanked God for this small blessing. Jason pushed his finger back inside me, much more easily this time as I relaxed around him. He toyed with me a little more, and then slid it out a final time. His finger slipped out and something much thicker and larger started to push its way into my somewhat opened hole. I knew what it was, and I cried out even while forcing my muscles to relax as much as they could. My body felt stretched so far it would tear, and tears welled in my eyes as I feared I would do just that. But my body was tougher than I had imagined, and soon Jason’s cock had hit home, stretching me to the limit, but it was there. The feeling was intense. It wasn’t as painful as I had feared, but wasn’t enjoyable in the way I had hoped. There was a feeling, something bordering on pleasure, but I couldn’t think of anything but the shame of having my boyfriend buried in that dirty place. I squeezed my eyes shut as one of the tears escaped, wetting my cheek and lingering at my lips so I could taste the salty liquid. “You okay?” Jason asked. I loved him so much. I was ashamed at the position I was in, but at the same time I was glad it was him I was sharing it with. Nodding, I gave my consent for him to go on, and he did. Slowly, the pain at his thrusts very minimal, Jason began to move out of my bottom. It felt as though he were dragging my insides with him as he went, but before he left me completely he began pushing slowly back inside. I remained bent over the bed, my hips thrust upward in a pitiful attempt to keep position. Another tear escaped me as Jason’s cock disappeared into my body again. Jason’s hand moved down between my legs and I whimpered softly as he began to play with my sensitive flesh, toying with it with his large fingers and sliding through the slick fluids. His middle finger made its way up inside my body, flicking the inside of me and stroking the insides. I moaned, finally feeling pleasure during this experience, as his thumb slid the flesh aside from my clit and began to flick the hard nub softly. End Game Releasing my wrists, Jason took his other hand and placed it on the small of my back, softly. Another tear escaped at this gentle motion, and I moved my hands to my face, crossing my arms and resting my head there so that it didn’t dig into the blankets so hard. I clenched my teeth, shut my eyes, and tried to concentrate on the feelings in my pussy while Jason teased me there. It wasn’t long before Jason’s thrusts were harder, and the pain had increased with his speed. He stopped stroking my clit, and put his hand on one of my bottom cheeks, squeezing it intently. It didn’t last for a long time, however, and with a grunt Jason pulled out of my body. I felt his hot cum spurt onto my back, the places it touched heated instantly. Breathing heavily, Jason bent down, covering my body with his own. The sperm squelched between our bodies, but he didn’t seem to mind and I certainly didn’t. I looked over my shoulder at his face, inches from mine. He smiled weakly and kissed me on the nose. “Was it too rough?” he asked, quietly. “No,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Good,” he said, and kissed me again. “I love you so much. Thank you.” “I love you too,” I said, smiling sincerely. Jason stood up slowly and wiped the cum off of me with his underwear, and then threw them into the corner of the bedroom. Climbing up into the bed with me, he grabbed me in his arms, holding me securely to his warm body. I rested my cheek on his soft chest, inhaling his scent as I closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly, and I slept more soundly than I had in weeks. End Game End Game Miriam is dead. Nothing else is important. You don't die that soon, not after your first surgery, do you? If I'd known I'd have gone to her, I don't care who would find out. I'd have to. But then, no, I wouldn't. You know that. I couldn't let her husband know, her kids know, and leave her dying in bed and needing them while they worked through knowing she was a whore and had betrayed them. She wasn't a whore. I'm only saying that because it's what they'd have thought. She was just a sweet woman dying. Through most of her life she hadn't even been particularly sexual, though I hardly believed it when she told me. She said some things just seemed different to her with the clock winding down. So I didn't get to see her again, not really, or say good-bye. I didn't get to touch her or kiss her or do any of the things I wanted to do. That I still want to do. I did sneak into the hospital after they cut on her, after visitors' hours so no one would know, but it didn't work out because she sent me away. She said she didn't want me to see her like that. I thought, maybe later, but she spiraled down. Hospice was called. I can't even grieve, not around anyone I know. Her husband could, though. He couldn't stop crying at the visitation. He tried to be brave, but he couldn't do it. I've never seen anyone so stricken. He shook my hand and mumbled "hello" while his daughter held his other hand and their minister kept butting in to tell him how all things work together for good to them that love God. I think he remembered me from when our kids took strings together, but who knows? What I remember was feeling his big hand in mine and seeing his eyes all wet and his face red and wanting to smack that fat, red face. She wanted you, you stupid son of a bitch. She wanted you, not me. I was just a substitute. It was always you, but you wouldn't give her what she needed and now it's too late. It was crowded in the funeral home. Everyone was there because everybody knew Miriam and everyone liked her, so it took forever to reach the front of the line. They all knew her, but not like I did. Her body didn't look right. I've never seen one that did, though people have told me of lovely dead aunts or grandfathers, but it didn't matter. I was only depressed by the shell-like aspect for a minute, not more than that, with that awful wig and terrible make-up, looking not asleep but as though she'd never been real, and then I saw her as she'd looked in bed with me, so thin and waiflike, so beautifully pale and smooth, hairless, her breasts distinct balls because she'd lost so much weight. They'd put a falsie on the corpse to make it look realistic and the fake breast made me think of the tiny lump she didn't want me to touch. I guess I stared at her for a minute, certainly not long enough to make people wonder what was going on with me, then I went out somewhere, looking for something that doesn't exist. * * * * * God I loved her. I had to be careful how I told her, though, because she wanted the fantasy that it was only sex that joined us. When I told her I loved her she insisted I really loved my wife and she loved Al. I had to say I had enough love for more than one woman and that she knew what I meant. I know she really did love her husband, and I know the sex really did draw us together. She loved everything about the sex. She liked my penis. Yes, I know. Lots of women like penises, and some don't, but this was different. She liked mine during sex but also afterwards, when it had shriveled and shrunk to almost nothing. She thought it was cute. "Cute? What the hell is 'cute,' Miriam? This thing just fucked you, lady!" "I know, silly, but when it gets so small after sex it's just, well, it's cute. And don't use that word!" She made a little pout. "Al's is always about the same length. It just gets rounder and harder and sticks out when, well, you know." Oh yes, I knew. She went on, "But yours. It gets so teensy-weensy when you're done. It's just precious!" I didn't answer her for a moment. It wasn't what she said. She had that Carolina accent that always makes people sound simpler and more innocent than they really are, so it would have been hard not to laugh at the way she said "precious." I was just surprised, because it was the first time she had spoken her husband's name in bed. That was bad luck for her. It brought the guilt on. Other places she'd talk about him and her kids all the time. I remember walking that path through the hill behind her subdivision, through the trees. There's a little creek with mossy rocks and dragonflies during the hot months and all those things that seem magical though they can't keep you from dying, and there we could walk holding hands, and she'd go on and on about her family. We could kiss. I could feel her up. Once I moved my hand down, all the way down inside her panties, and massaged her while I was kissing her, and I got her so high she almost came right there, her breath on my face accompanied by little whimpering sounds and her eyes completely closed, but when we broke away to walk some more she told me how she was arranging things to ease the transition as much as possible for Al and the kids, when she passed on. It was only in bed that she couldn't mention him. Until we got to penile comparisons, it seems. "You know," I told her, "it would be just as easy to talk about how big and hard it gets when you make me all bothered. A little pixie dust from you and it can fly." "Oh you men! You really do have the frailest egos." She had been tickling my ear, but now she moved down to my groin and used her mouth to boost my ego. * * * * * We'd never have sexed if she hadn't gotten cancer. We didn't know each other that well, and when she came over to me at a celebration for a professor who had died I didn't recognize her at first, because she'd lost so much weight and was wearing a straight, blond wig. Her eyes were a little bloodshot and her eyelids were inflamed. "It's just from the chemotherapy. It was really bad, but I'm feeling so much better now. I'm going in for a second round that will be shorter, so they can get the tumor shrunk before the surgery." We got together because I didn't react very well to finding out about her breast. It wasn't terrible, but enough to eat at me, so I sent her an email volunteering to be her sounding board when she needed to talk to someone besides her usual family and friends. A week later the need was upon her. * * * * * In my mind I can see the transformation happen. I see it from all angles, the two of us on the hiking path in Towne Park, passing through that wooded patch where no one can see us. It's warm and sunny, awfully warm for October, so the red dogwood leaves seem out of place. We're holding hands. It's innocent. I took her hand because she was a little down and I thought it would help, and neither of us feels disposed to let go. What were we talking about a second ago? I don't remember that. How did we come around to it? I don't know. It isn't out of the blue, though. Something leads to something else. It isn't out of the blue when she stops walking and jerks her hand from mine. She turns half away and says, "They're going to cut my breast off and I'm going to die and my husband won't even make love to me!" She is looking at the ground and I don't for all the world know what to say. No one ever prepares you for that, do they? She isn't crying but it's terrible. Because I never know what to say, I've learned not to be stupid and to say nothing. I don't croak "you're not gonna die," because she'd think it was dumb and it's only part of her point. The one thing I can think to do is step to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Then, because she doesn't respond, I lean forward and kiss her on top of her head. The wig isn't like hair. I can't smell or feel her through it. She leans her forehead against my chest just for a second. When she lifts off she has this tight little smile. "It's not his fault. Really. I didn't mean it that way. I'm just a mess right now. My hair is all tufts and scraggles because of the chemo. It's like I have mange or something." "Oh." What should I say next? "I thought all of a person's hair fell out from the chemo." "Maybe it will eventually, but not yet. It's pretty ugly." From somewhere I get the most brilliant advice in my life. "Why don't you shave it smooth?" "What?" "Shave it smooth. Um, isn't it the patchiness that's the problem? Shave it off and make yourself beautiful." She smiles at me. "You think a bald head would be beautiful?" "Ah, sure. Of course. Your legs are bald and they're beautiful, aren't they?" "That's not the same. Who'd want to go to bed with a bald woman?" "For starters? Me. Not that I'm coming on or anything." I don't think I am. Probably I'm not. But I'm starting to feel flirty. "Bald?" she says. "Bald. No wig. Lovely smooth skin to caress. Like caressing your legs. Did the chemo affect your body hair too?" "Yes. Not on everyone, but it did on me." She's looking at me with a different expression. There's something subtly hungry about it. "Well then take the time you're saving shaving your legs and use it on your noggin." Now she does smile and seems about ready to laugh. "It isn't that simple, you goof! My body hair is patchy too." "Oh. Uh, all your body hair?" I string out the "all". I decide I *am* starting to come on to her. "You mean ...?" and she gives a quick nod in the general direction of her crotch. "Uh-huh." She blushes. Oh jeez does she blush. I haven't seen anything like that in years. She doesn't look away though. She looks me straight on, red-faced and all. "Well, yes. It's patchy too." "Then shave it." "Shave it?" "Shave it. Make yourself smooth and beautiful." "And then I suppose you'd want to go to bed with me?" "Oh that! Shoot, I already want to do that. This would just make me want to worship you!" "You goof!" She laughs. I laugh. We're enjoying the silly moment. I say "Come here" and pull her in and we hug. That's the instant of the transformation. It's quick, a blink. We're hugging and laughing and we look each other in the face and I kiss her. We're not laughing. We're not saying anything. Her eyes grow wide, then she leans into me and we're both kissing, mouth over mouth, lips touching and brushing, sucking, breathing each other's air, our bodies touching all the way down. I can feel my penis start to grow between our bellies and I know she can feel it too. Then we're not kissing anymore. She's stepped away and looks frightened. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I really do. I really appreciate your talking with me. But...you know." What have I done? "Look, I'm sorry about that kiss. I didn't mean anything. It just happened." "Oh I know. It's just that I really have to go. You know. I'll call you later, okay?" "Sure. I really am sorry." "No. Don't worry. It's okay." So we're both fumbling around with words, trying to make everything normal between us while we walk to our cars, she afraid that she's shamed herself and afraid of the complications, me afraid I've fumbled the role of confidant and driven her away, and that's how things stand when she starts her car and leaves. It's a terrible memory but at least she's alive in it. * * * * * It happened that I was looking for a copy of some book and when I turned back Miriam was in my office doorway. Like a spirit. When Ebenezer Scrooge first saw Jacob Marley's ghost, it was as a transformation in his door-knocker. Miriam was a transformation in the space of my doorway, suddenly standing there in a raincoat, out of nothing, and I got a chill up my back. "Hi," I said, finally. "I was a little worried about you." I had decided she wasn't going to see me again, or return emails, or anything. I had given up when she came by. "Can I come in?" Her voice was little, and quiet, somehow obsequious. "Sure." I rose. What to do? "Do you have a little time?" Of course I did. "Can I shut the door?" Then, with the door closed, "I have something I want to show you. Is it okay?" "Of course. That's what friends are for." She looked around the office. It was far too quiet. She said, "You have to be honest with me, Jake. I couldn't stand it if you weren't honest, even if I don't like the truth." "I will. Whatever you ask, I'll tell the truth." I didn't know if I would or not. She fumbled with her wig and then she was holding it down by her hip and her head was smooth and bald. "Is this...horrible? You have to be honest!" I thought she might bolt. Then I did walk up to her, slowly, to keep from spooking her. I thought she was like a young colt, in everything but appearance. She was odd looking without hair, but I never thought her ugly, just unusual. Just needing getting used to. Like the women in "Alien Nation," who were seductively beautiful once you'd seen them enough. I went up to her and she didn't move, and after a minute I put both my hands on her scalp. Just my finger tips at first, then my palms, and I moved my hands all over her head. She was silky under my hands. She didn't bolt. She didn't move at all, just looked up at me from under her eyelids. After a moment I pulled her head down a fraction and kissed the top of her head. It was enormously better than kissing the wig. I ran my lips over her, then pulled back and raised her face by putting the backs of my fingers to her cheek. She still hadn't made a sound or a move. With her face up we looked in each other's eyes and I knew I could kiss her again, and I did. It was just like in the park, except that she didn't stop things. She began panting almost immediately. I think she'd been holding her breath. I used my right hand to pull her to me and kept caressing her scalp with my left, and my mind was seventeen steps ahead because she'd trusted me with all this and I knew what else she'd trust me with. "You look just fine. Wonderful. Don't ever worry again about how you look with a smooth head. Never again." We kissed again. We heard someone walking down the hall outside the door, and we clung quietly to each other. When the steps were past we began kissing again. As a child I had caressed my pillow case with my lips. A wonderful thing for a child. Now I did that to her skin, a wonderful thing for an adult, but in a minute she put both hands up to my chest and softly pushed me back. "There's something else I have to show you." She undid her belt and began unbuttoning the coat, and I knew before she finished one button that she wasn't wearing anything under it. With that I knew everything else that was important. She had thought about me every day since the kiss and had finally shaved her body for me. She must have considered it a long time. Maybe there were false starts and vows to stop being stupid, and worries about the sinfulness of it. Shaving off her pubic hair would have been the kinkiest thing she'd ever done. Did it make her hot to do it? She'd wanted to prepare her body for me, and now she was going to offer herself to me. "Does it look weird?" She let her coat slip down her arms to the floor so that it formed a pile against her ankles, and she kept her arms straight down by her sides, as though fighting a desire to cover up. Her legs were close together. Her head was bowed. She wasn't looking directly at me. I think she couldn't. Again, I knew what she was thinking. What if I rejected the offer? Could I accept it? She must have stood something like that in front of her mirror, looking at her body, certain she'd never actually be able to show herself to me, or even to Al. Her desperation must have been terrible. Nothing in her life had prepared her for such a step, but her need would have kept the thought there, the idea of being transported by sex. Did she lie in bed at night thinking about it, thinking she couldn't die without experiencing it? She must have hated how she looked. The hate was misplaced. She was thin and marvelously pale. Were both from the chemo? I could see her ribs and the bones of her chest, and faint bluish veins in her breasts that radiated from nipples that were dark and womanly against that white skin. I couldn't see a lump. Though she held her legs together I could see her labia, slightly darker than the rest of her, and the little, reddish slit of her vagina where it disappeared between her thighs. It was as shy as the rest of her. I stepped back up to her and spoke as quietly as I could, "Don't move," and I began touching and caressing her everywhere. * * * * * It was far easier to find times and places to fuck than I had ever imagined. We did it two or three times a week, in my office or at her house or mine. It wasn't enough. For me it wasn't, and she said it wasn't for her, and I believed her because she called and sent emails to try to set up trysts we couldn't work out. We were almost caught only once, and it was so silly that it seemed afterward to be almost something from the Three Stooges. We laughed about it hysterically when we got together that very night. I wish we could have done it every day. She'd missed out on so much, and we just couldn't cover everything. Me, I'm not young but everything of mine worked for her and I'd have taught her everything I could. Miriam, sister of Moses, found water on the desert. Miriam found water in me. I'd get hard at night, trying to fall sleep, after we'd fucked that day. We were so conspiratorial, plotting to do this and that. She wanted to try almost everything she'd never done, and she'd done very little. A good, Southern Baptist girl in a Southern Baptist marriage. Almost everything was sinful. She'd had no ass-play ever. Nothing oral beyond a little kissing and licking as foreplay. She was afraid to suggest things at first. Was she afraid to compound her sin, or was she just shy at the thought she would disgust me? That first day, I pushed her down onto the couch and knelt between her legs to eat her. I'd never done that with a woman who shaved. "Don't," she said when I started. "What?" "You don't have to do that." "I'm not going to pass up the chance at a naked cunt." "No, that's not what I mean. And don't use that ...oh!" She kept saying things, though they became less words and more grunts and gasps. Later she told me it was the first time ever for her, and the experience was overwhelming. By the time she told me that, she wanted my mouth almost every time we were together. This first time she didn't know how to act, or what to expect, and she kept jerking and twisting, and whimpering "what are you doing," and "oh God," and "please, please." When she began building toward orgasm she grew even louder. I had to stop for a minute and wait for her pleasure to subside, so she was only gasping, not crying out. "I love doing this, but you're going to get us caught. Try holding both hands over your mouth." So she muffled herself and I licked and sucked and she came. She yelled into her hands, silencing herself pretty well, though anyone walking past the door would have known exactly what was happening. After she finished she lay on my couch and cried. She was inconsolable. I had to hold her for the longest time, and kiss her and murmur how everything was going to be fine, before she finally quieted. She never told me why she cried. I only have guesses. * * * * * She was awfully thin. I could feel her spine and all her ribs through her clothes. She was a bird, a sparrow, hollow and empty. I thought I could lift her with one arm. We were walking in Kilkelly Garden and no one else was around because it was so out of season. My left arm was around her waist and I just lifted her up and swung her around to face me. End Game She gave a little shriek. "Jake, no, don't!" She tried laughing, an embarrassed little laugh. Then, "Jake, I can't breathe." She brought both her arms to my neck and I held her up with both my arms around her waist. She was flying, her legs in the air, and it was so good to kiss my little bird, sparrow-like in everything except her breasts, which were round and hard against me. She tried to push against me and whispered "Please, Jake, I can't...can't breathe." There was almost no air behind her words. So I put her down and loosened my hold, and she leaned against me, breathing ragged gasps, my weak little sparrow. I loved her more then than before, and I hated myself. It was the first time I felt she might actually die -- the first time it seemed real to me. * * * * * It was always a different place. She couldn't go anywhere without running into someone from her church, so our rule was to never be seen in the same place twice. She'd be working at this or that charity effort, and it was always hard for her to get away on any kind of a schedule. It was harder to talk face-to-face than to fornicate. One memory. She's in the new place, standing, waiting for me. It's the best place, closest by, the landscaped courtyard nestled between two wings of Old Main building, screened from the curious by a raised, enclosed walkway and a hedge of arbor vitae and some massive azaleas, a place no one ever goes. It's so protected the ferns haven't yet died. She's standing there while I duck in, under the walkway. For me she's just stopped crying. "I showed Al my body last night." She smiles fiercely, forcing an ironic grin, then drops the other shoe. "He wasn't interested." "What do you mean? You mean the dope was shocked because you shaved?" "No. No. It wasn't like that at all. He was surprised, but I told him I shaved because of the hair problem. You know. So he accepted it." "And?" "And, well, it's been so long since we've made love. I said 'would you like to try it out?' I thought maybe he'd think it was sexy, but he just looked away from me and mumbled something about how he had some things he had to do." Oh Jesus. The bastard. "So he was shocked." "No. You don't understand. It was more like he was afraid. Like he's afraid of my body or something." A tear or two get loose. She can't stop them all, so I get to hold her again. It almost doesn't matter that she's miserable, because I can hold her and give her comfort. I'll get her naked body too, tomorrow or the next day, and she'll forget all about Al for a little while. "Jake, you wouldn't do that to your wife, would you? You love her. You wouldn't deny her, would you?" Oh no. Not that. That's not your place, darling. You're out of line. I want to shake her. You're the other woman, the one who causes the breach, or steps into it. You can't be her protector. What can I say? Shut the fuck up, my dearest? Butt out, my one, true love? Should I tell the truth? Finally I look her full in the face and say it as honestly as I can make it sound. "Of course I wouldn't." The only "of course" is that life serves up cheap irony and my wife wants sex tonight. How seldom does that happen? How much water under that bridge? Sometimes we grow so guilty we aren't doing it that we do it. I don't want to do it tonight. I really don't. But Miriam says I have to love her. So I take a Viagra and futz in the bathroom forever, until I can feel it start to work. In the end it isn't so bad. It never is, really, once we get started. With candles I can imagine she's the smooth skinned girl I once adored. I can imagine she's Miriam. I can fantasize anything. My wife massages me with baby powder and plays with my penis, which gets nice and hard. She's a little surprised at first but then gets cocky at her power. It's Miriam sucking on my balls. It's Miriam licking the head of my cock while I masturbate her. We lie down to spoon, me coming in from behind, and use her vibrator. Fantasizing Miriam, I come easily and don't have to fake it. Afterwards we touch each other affectionately, tickling and kissing, and we say we still have it after all these years. * * * * * Miriam's second round of chemotherapy was hard on her. I couldn't see her while she was getting it, and it laid her low. She couldn't eat. Everything came right back up. She was weak, and when she'd sit up or -- especially -- try to walk, the world would spin and she'd be sick again. I knew this because she'd call me at my office, from her bed, and talk to me in her weakened little voice about it all and about nothing. I felt like a teenager. I hated having to hang up to get my work done. In the middle of one conversation she suddenly broke a sentence with "oh wait," and there was silence, and a distant retching sound. Then she came back on, and her voice was more breathless than before. "I'm sorry, sweetie pie. My tummy caught me a little by surprise." The next morning she called again. "Jake," she said, "I'm so horny for you. Can you come over?" "Are you feeling better?" "No, but I'm going out of my mind being sexy. I can't move without getting dizzy, but I keep thinking of you and touching myself. Please, can you come over?" "Are you alone?" "Yes, silly. I told Mee-Maw I was feeling a lot better, and that I needed some time alone. I acted undizzy, but oh it was hard! I'm just finally getting it back under control." She was telling the truth. She lay flat on her bed, arms and legs half spread, and even my moving on the bed made the world swirl and float for her. I undressed her carefully and slowly, unbuttoning her teddy and peeling it back but not removing it, then pulling off her panties. They were loose and came down easily. She looked completely washed out. Dark bags circled her eyes, but the rest of her was all pallor. She'd grown still thinner, and her skin hadn't shrunk as much as the rest of her, so it was loose over her breasts. Her naked vagina, though, was pink, and I could see she'd been touching herself. She'd been doing more than that, she was so wet. I had to be gentle at this. "Okay, Miriam, nice and easy does it. You just lie here and let me play with you." She tried to stay completely still. I reached between her legs and, yes, she was as slippery as she could be. There was almost no resistance when I stroked her, moving my fingers up almost from her anus, through her vulva all the way up over her little stub of a clitoris, to the top of her crease. Then down all the way. I was just softly strumming her. A truly wet woman is absolutely slick, and no one who has had the chance to touch her then will ever forget the sensation. I played with her vagina like this for several minutes, until her eyes would close during the stroke and half open afterwards. She wanted to control her breathing for fear she might get sick again, but she still made a little gasp of inhalation at every second or third stroke. I spread her fluid over her labia with my strokes, then began pulling on the labia themselves, letting the slippery things pass through my fingers. Then I noticed her breast. There were a few drops of an almost clear fluid coming from her nipple. I leaned closer and it was then I saw the lump for the first time. Wasn't it supposed to be getting smaller? Maybe it showed up better because she'd lost so much weight? My hand must have moved up from her vagina on its own, because I found myself caressing the breast as softly as possible. The lump was obvious to my fingers. "Don't, Jake," she whispered. "Shh, love." "That's what's going to make them cut it off." "It's not off yet, darling. It's still there for me to love on." I bent my head to it and tasted the fluid. It was almost nothing, maybe the slightest bit sweet. I took her nipple between my lips and sucked, and a little fluid came out. "Don't, Jake." "Does it hurt?" "No. But it's poison. The cancer makes it do that." "I'll suck it all out." "No, Jake." But I began to suck her harder and a little more fluid might have come out, and at the same time I began masturbating her again, faster, up and down through her vulva, two fingers up and down while I sucked. She crooked her arm up to hold my head to her breast and she began breathing harder. Her chest rose and fell now, and her gasps became moans and then words. One word. My name. She was moaning "Jake...Jake...oh, Jake" while I sucked on her diseased breast and masturbated her, and then she began to move rhythmically to the hand, the muscles of her abdomen and her arms and legs pulling together, and the moans grew louder and more ragged, and then she came. And then she threw up. In mid-orgasm she twisted toward the side of the bed and made an urping sound into a little plastic bowl, then lay there, on her side, panting. Of course I stopped masturbating her. I lay my hand on her hip, felt her, caressed her. Her skin was clammy and I became terrified of what was happening to her. Don't fall apart, I told myself. Be a comfort. Finally, slowly, her panting subsided, and I could tell she was crying. It was time to be strong for her, to pretend everything was fine. "There, there, darling." I moved up to kiss her cheek, but she put a hand back against my face. "I'm so disgusting! How can you stand me?" For a minute I stroked her shoulder through the silk of the teddy, feeling her tremble with the crying, and tried to control my breathing. Finally I thought I could say it, but it was obvious from my voice. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Miriam. You're the easiest person to stand I've ever known." She turned her head around to look at me and saw that I was crying too, and she seemed astounded. I wiped my eyes and crept off the bed and took the plastic bowl into the bathroom. There was a tiny amount of greenish liquid in it that I washed away. I got her a glass of water so she could rinse her mouth out. When I came back I brought a fresh towel and dried away the clamminess. "Jake, will you get me some crushed ice, please? I need ice chips. I can hold them down." So I got crushed ice from the kitchen, and Miriam took a few chips and let them melt in her mouth, and I massaged her arms and her legs, each leg and then each arm. By and by she became settled and managed a smile. "You didn't get to come, Jake." "I don't need to." "But you're still a little hard. I want you to have the sweetness too." "Well, anything we'd do would make you sick, love. When you're feeling better we can do things to our hearts' content." "No, Jake. That would make me feel worse. Look, I know. You masturbated me. Now do yourself, and when you're almost there I'll take you in my mouth." "No. I don't think so." "Do it, sweetheart. Please. Do it for me." I'd never masturbated in front of anyone in my life, but Miriam made it a test of my love and that was that. I would do it because she knew I loved her. So I stood beside her and grabbed my erection just behind the head and began. My foreskin moves back and forth over the head when I jerk myself off. Miriam watched it closely, like she was fascinated. I think she'd never seen anyone masturbate. Anyway, it was difficult with her right there, so I began slowly. After a minute she reached out a hand to touch the base of my penis, where it emerges from my balls, and she kept her hand there the whole time. It helped. I sped up. It was good with her touching me, and I began to get breathless like I do when I'm getting close. It was almost time. Almost time. It was time, and I gasped it out to her, "Okay. Okay. I'm almost there. I'm going to come." She opened her mouth and leaned the tiniest bit forward and pulled my penis into her mouth. She sucked on it and pulled it about twice and my orgasm rushed from my balls all up through my body and I came into her, feeling myself pump again and again. I half fell onto the bed and had to brace myself on my arms to keep from crushing her. Afterwards she smiled at me while I lay still beside her, recovering. She took some ice chips and said, "See, Jake? It didn't make me the least bit sick. You're my meal for today. You'll make me stronger. Maybe you can feed me every day." But I never got to feed her again. * * * * * That night I had a dream. Miriam and I were fucking, and then suddenly her breast wasn't there, only a bloody gash, and it was shooting poison milk everywhere. I awoke terrified about what this might mean. I lay awake for hours, even after the fear had passed. I thought of what she would look like mutilated. Would the scar affect me? Would I be able to get hard for her? I was afraid I'd be like Al. The next morning she called. They were taking her in. The cancer wasn't responding like it should, and they had to decide what to do right away. I think she was calling to say good-bye, because before she hung up she said, "Jake, you know I love you." After she crashed there was a special prayer service at her church, but I couldn't make myself go to it. Instead I went to Towne Park by myself. God, please don't let her die. Don't let her die. Please, God, please. I'll do anything. Let me die. I'll stay away from her. I'll join the church and be a good Christian. I know I haven't been a believer, but I'll change. I promise. Just don't let her die. Please! I'm begging you. I would have kept my promise. * * * * * I think it helped Miriam to be a believer. I hope she prayed for forgiveness and got the peace that passeth all understanding, but I'm not sure she would pray for herself. I'm sure she prayed for me, and told God I'm a good person, and to please let the Holy Spirit work in me. That prayer is destined to go unanswered. Still, I'm trying to be a better person, for her, though she'll never know it. I know I'm not the only one, that thousands are grief-stricken, and people recover, and with time the sun shines again. Maybe some day. Now I just don't know what to do. I've visited all the places we went together, but though people have told me they suddenly see their beloved everywhere they go, I don't see Miriam anywhere. I visited her grave and tried to talk to her, but it wasn't any good. She isn't there, either. My wife has noticed I've been down a lot lately and I told her part of the truth, that it's because Miriam, whose daughter took strings with Patty, died. My wife is touched that I'm so affected by the death of someone we didn't know well. I've taken to snuggling her in bed before we fall asleep. I want solitude, but I need to touch someone too. Other than that, I take long walks through the parks and in open fields, getting away from everyone I know, whenever I can. The days are longer now, and warmer, and the breeze pushes through the long spring grass, as though it's writing cryptic messages on the earth. Sometimes I try to read things into them, but when the breeze moves on, the messages disappear. End.