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It was the right kind of day, chilly and gray, miserable, the sky low and sullen and spitting a few icy snowflakes which whipped around in the stiff wind.
The kind of day that’s wholly appropriate for burying your best friend.
The funeral had ended, and the small crowd had quickly dispersed, looking for warmth and a more cheerful setting, and now I stood alone at the side of Ryan’s open grave, looking down at his casket.
Picking up a handful of dirt from the graveside mound I sprinkled it over the lid, the rich walnut of which, despite its brilliant gloss finish, seemed to absorb the gray light of the sky rather than reflect it.
I’d stayed back by a big, barren hickory while Jenny, Ryan’s wife, had her final private moments with him, but even from there, I could hear her crying.
When she’d returned to the waiting limo, I’d given the cemetery crew forty bucks, all I had in my wallet, and asked them to wait in the warmth of their truck and give me a few minutes alone before they closed the grave.
They’d seemed only too happy to have an excuse to get out of the cold wind and had told me to take as long as I needed.
I didn’t know how long I’d need, only that it would be a long time, and that it wouldn’t all be spent standing beside his grave, loving and hating him.
For the moment, hatred and anger won out and I picked up a second handful of dirt, squeezing it into a hard-packed lump before hurling it as hard as I could at his casket.
“Goddamn you, Ryan.
Goddamn you, you selfish, motherfucking bastard.
You son of a bitch…” And then, finally, the tears came in wracking sobs and I struggled to breathe, overcome with the soul-crushing loss of my friend, someone that had been so important to my life and so close to me since we’d been small children.
It didn’t seem possible that he was gone but the cold grayness and the desolate cemetery and the open grave, his casket at the bottom, made it all too real.
The weight of my grief seemed to crush me, too heavy to stand up under, and I sat down on the fake-grass carpeting they’d used to cover the raw, barren edges of the pit and let my legs dangle into the grave above my friend’s casket.
When the tears finally ran out, I talked to him.
I told him how much I loved him, and what he’d meant to me.
I talked about some of the good times we’d had, the way we’d laughed together, dumb shit we’d done as kids.
The way we’d lived life so fully, now and when we were young, so absent forethought or worries.
I cursed him again, swearing at him and telling him I hated him, but then no, that I loved him.
And missed him.
After a while the words dried up like the tears had and I just sat there with him, too weak to face facts, unwilling – or perhaps unable – to put that final period at the end of our story and move on.
I caught a faint trace of Jenny’s cologne in the breeze just moments before she put her hand on my shoulder – a good thing, or, thinking myself alone in a gray and desolate graveyard, I might have leapt into the pit at the unexpected touch.
“Alex, are you okay?” I put my hand over hers.
No, I’m not, but I should be asking you that.
” “You knew him far longer than I did, maybe better.
We both loved him.
Why wasn’t it enough?” “I’ve been sitting here asking myself that same question.
Well, that and telling him what a fucking selfish bastard he is.
Or was…” “I may have mentioned that as well, before, when I was saying goodbye.
” She sighed.
“I told him that to his face several times too, over the last couple of years.
” “Did we do everything we could, Alex? Please tell me that we did everything we could.
” She put her other hand on my other shoulder and leaned into me so that her knees and thighs pressed against my upper back.
I squeezed her hand.
Yes, we did everything we could.
I have to believe that.
It’s like the counselors said, you can’t make an alcoholic stop drinking.
First, he had to want to stop; without that nobody could help him.
” “He did stop, several times.
Each time I’d get my hopes up and each time, eventually, he’d crawl back in the bottle.
He’d feel good, past the worst of it, stay clean for weeks, almost six months the one time, then he’d do it again.
I feel like I failed him…” “Jenny!” It came out more sharply than I’d intended; I felt her stiffen and quickly apologized.
But you gotta quit; don’t beat yourself up.
You did more than anyone should ever have to, certainly more than any other woman would have.
Any other woman would have left him a long time ago.
” “God, we loved each other so much.
We were so happy.
He was such a good, good man once, before this…” “I know.
Believe me, I know.
” She was right.
Ryan had been an incredible man, an incredible friend, an incredible husband to Jenny.
Brilliant, kind, funny, loving, generous to a fault, he’d loved her more than life itself.
Unfortunately, although it had been a long slide, he’d also come to love alcohol more than life itself.
Literally, as it had turned out.
“I thought you’d left before, in the limo.
” “I sent it on.
I saw you out here and you looked so alone, so sad.
I had to come back, and I figured I could catch a ride with you.
” “Of course; anywhere you want to go.
” That was Jenny.
She’d just lost the love of her life and was undoubtedly consumed by her grief, but she’d been worried about me.
Her strength was often a wonder to me, and while I’d been thrilled for them when she and Ryan had found each other and tied the knot, I’d come to believe, over these last couple of years, that she was far better than he deserved.
We stayed there for a long time without speaking, sharing our grief, the light growing dim as the clouds thickened, temperature dropping, snow starting in earnest now.
She eventually broke the silence.
“Thirty-four is so young.
Way too young to be put in the cold, wet ground.
” “It is.
It’s also too young to freeze your ass off in a cemetery, crying for the past and wishing for things that are never going to happen.
” All three of us were the same age, within a few months; only the two of us would be getting any older.
I craned my neck to look up at her and could see that her face was streaked with fresh tears and speckled with melting snowflakes.
I struggled to my feet, my ass numb from the cold ground, and brushed my hands off on my pants before taking her in my arms.
We held each other for a time, finding comfort in our shared love for Ryan, until I said, “C’mon, let’s go find a nice warm bar somewhere and lift a glass to him; I think he’d appreciate the irony of that.
” I heard her half-snort, half-sob, stifling a quick laugh before she looked up into my face.
“He always said you were the most cynical son of a bitch he’d ever known, but for some reason, everyone loved you anyway.
I know he did.
” “It was mutual.
I don’t take myself too seriously, Jen, so people that know me don’t either.
” “I’m sure.
You’re right, though; he would have appreciated the sick humor of us sharing a drink in his honor.
” We turned toward my car as I waved at the guys in their truck, giving them the all-clear to proceed.
They climbed reluctantly out of the warmth of the truck cab and fired up the backhoe as we walked slowly across the rapidly whitening ground, my arm over her shoulders and hers around my waist, leaning on each other both physically and emotionally.
We stayed while the car warmed up, watching as they lowered the heavy lid onto the concrete vault that contained my best friend’s casket, her husband’s remains.
When they began to push the dirt back into Ryan’s grave she sobbed once, and I took her hand in mine as I navigated one-handed out of the cemetery.
~~~~~ I drove a few miles through the falling snow to Pine’s.
It was an old-style tavern, the kind of dark and private place where lovers would meet up for a nerve-calming drink before sneaking off to a nearby seedy motel, a place for secret trysts and serious drinkers.
There was nothing fancy about it, nothing froufrou, and you’d never see a fern or a family in the place.
It smelled of old cigarette smoke and beer and bourbon, and maybe a hint of desperation and sadness, suitable for our mood.
It wasn’t named for a forest; Gerry Pine was the owner, had been for over a quarter-century since taking it over from his father.
Gerry was a taciturn fireplug of a man, no hint of joviality or humor, but he took care of his clientele, tended a good bar, and knew when to grunt in acknowledgment and when to keep his mouth shut.
Ryan had been a regular, and he knew me from the few times I’d lifted a glass with my friend and the many times he’d taken Ryan’s keys away and called me to come fetch him.
He’d always looked out for his customers in that way.
On occasions that he couldn’t reach me, Jenny had always been his second call, so he knew her as well and when he saw us walk in and take a dark corner booth, he waved Didi, his waitress, away and a minute or so later crossed to our booth himself, carrying three glasses.
I knew what they contained; a couple of fingers of Maker’s Mark bourbon and a splash, Ryan’s drink of choice.
He set them on the table in front of us.
“You two doin’ okay?” I nodded at him.
“As well as can be expected, Gerry.
” “Funeral today, right?” I nodded again.
“We just came from the cemetery.
Miserable fucking day.
Hey, condolences, all right? Jenny looked up at him.
” He indicated the glasses with a wave.
“I thought maybe we’d have one in his honor, hey? On the house.
” I touched a glass, then slid it to Jenny before picking up another.
Gerry took the third, raising it before saying, “To a good guy who died too young.
” We tilted our glasses toward each other and then each slammed the drink without tasting it, a farewell without fanfare or finesse, Jenny gasping slightly at the burn, her eyes watering.
He took the empty glasses from our fingers.
“Keep ‘em comin’?” I nodded, but Jenny shook her head.
“How about a vodka martini instead.
” “You got it.
Anything else I can get you two?” I shook my head.
“Thanks, Gerry, I think we’re good.
We sure appreciate the thought though, and the way you always looked out for Ryan.
” He nodded.
“Least I could do.
Tough deal, hey?” Jenny stared at his back as he walked away.
“Do you suppose he feels any remorse about Ryan?” “Serving him, you mean? No, I wouldn’t think so.
He’s a businessman, Jen; he serves the customer or they go someplace else.
Ryan was an adult; he made his own decisions, his own mistakes.
” “I suppose.
” I could see that she still bore a nugget of resentment toward Gerry; understandable, given how often Ryan had gotten drunk at Pine’s.
“Jen, he did what he could do.
He always kept him from getting in his car and killing someone else, maybe even a whole family.
Some other place, some other owner or bartender might not have been so understanding, so concerned.
” She sighed.
“You’re right, and I know that; I just keep trying to blame someone other than Ryan, I think.
” “I know.
I do the same.
I’ve wondered if you blamed me, or at least resented me since I was so often the one that dragged him home to you, drunk out of his gourd.
Seemed like you did, sometimes.
” She shook her head.
“No…” She hesitated, then put her hand over mine.
“Maybe I did sometimes, Alex, I don’t know.
I know you were just helping out, trying to do what you could do, just like me.
I appreciate you being there for him, for us; you’re a good friend.
I’m sorry if I never told you that.
” “No, it’s okay.
I just wish I could have done more.
” A sudden memory hit me, and I laughed.
“He ever puke in your car as you were hauling him home?” She smiled wanly.
“Close a few times; I always managed to pull over and stop.
He left a lot of booze and burgers in the gutters around town.
You?” “Same, except one time I was on the highway and couldn’t stop.
He got his head out the window, but he painted the whole side of my car.
I went straight to the carwash and made him pay.
Halfway through the wash, those big rotating brush things beating on my car, he opens the window and sticks his face out because he’d caught some of his own blowback.
” I started laughing.
“Sorry, I guess it wasn’t really funny, but that thing beat the shit out of him.
Drenched the inside of my car with suds and water too, but we were laughing so hard it didn’t matter at the time.
” Jenny was laughing too.
“That’s why he came in dripping wet and smelling like detergent.
I remember that night.
” She paused and took a tremulous breath.
“That was Ryan, always doing crazy stuff.
” We sat together in silence for a while, each lost in our own memories.
There were a lot of bad ones over the last couple of years, but a few good ones even then and many happier ones from earlier.
Ryan and I had been through so much together, from childhood trials and tribulations to puberty, high school athletics, romances and lost loves, and then college, where we’d both excelled, him earning his MBA while I earned my degrees in architectural engineering.
We’d started a company together as developers, setting our sights on commercial work, from office buildings and medical centers to shopping centers, hotels, and public buildings, Ryan handling the business end while I worked design, logistics, and oversight of the various contractors.
We’d struggled and had lean times together early, but when success eventually came it had made us, if not truly wealthy, definitely more than comfortable.
Speaking of which… “You know you and I are business partners now, right?” We’d owned our business as fifty-fifty partners, and I knew that Ryan’s will left his share to Jenny.
She’d worked with us since shortly after their nuptials, her role increasing as Ryan’s had been reduced by his alcoholism, and I had almost no qualms about her as a partner.
“I know; is that going to be a problem for you?” “For me? No, not at all.
Hell, Jen, you’ve been carrying more of the weight than he has for quite a while now.
You know the business, and, frankly, I think some of the guys we deal with are much happier working with you.
Ryan was good, but you have other attributes that men appreciate.
” “What a terribly sexist thing to say!” I laughed.
“I know, right? But I’m a realist; pragmatism over warm, fuzzy idealism.
What Ryan did with expensive dinners, drinks, and a pair of baseball or football tickets you do with a smile, a touch on the shoulder, and pure sincerity.
They believe you because you’re beautiful; they want to, and you don’t have to schmooze.
” “Still… it sounded like you expect me to sleep with them or something.
” I frowned.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean that at all.
I just meant that we all work with the tools we have.
You’re gorgeous, bright, have beautiful eyes, a great smile, and a certain earnest, honest attitude that you bring to the game.
Don’t ever, ever feel like you have to fuck someone to close a deal.
” “How about if I want to?” My jaw may have dropped, but then I saw her sly smile and realized she was yanking my chain.
“Okay then, but only if it’s a really big deal, because you’re worth it – and I don’t think you can write off condoms as a business expense.
Well, forget it then.
” We again shared a companionable silence, each grateful the other was there to share the burden of our grief.
We agreed on one final round, our third, and that then we’d leave.
We nursed our drinks and talked about minutiae; Ryan, life, death, friends, business concerns, and tried to avoid wallowing in self-pity.
~~~~~~ Gerry wouldn’t let us pay him for the drinks, telling us again how sorry he was, and to be careful.
When we stepped outside, we saw the reason for his cautionary words; the light snowfall had morphed into an all-out blizzard, fat flakes by the millions passing by in white streaks almost parallel to the ground, which had already collected several inches.
“Well, that complicates getting you home.
The roads have to be pretty bad by now and getting worse by the minute.
” Their home was about seventeen miles from Pine’s; I’d made the trip too many times to not know.
It was doable, but it would be a slow and nerve-wracking trip.
My condo was less than five.
“You don’t have to drive me way out there, just take me to a hotel.
” “There’s nothing anywhere near here that I’d let you stay in, Jen, even if a lonely, shitty, depressing hotel room wasn’t a horrible place to end up on the day you buried your husband.
” I hesitated, but common sense won out.
“My spare bedroom is all made up if you don’t mind staying at my place for tonight.
” “Well… are you sure it’s no trouble?” “Zero.
I’d be glad for the company.
” “Me too.
I wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty house, knowing I’d never see him walk in again.
” She sat in the car as it warmed up while I cleared the snow off, and then we completed the slow, nervous crawl uneventfully.
Once in, I took her coat and scarf and accompanied her to the living room.
She’d been there many times before, always with Ryan, so having her there alone struck an odd note.
“Sit anywhere, Jen.
Can I get you something, a drink, maybe a snack? How about some coffee to warm us up?” I lit the fireplace; gas burner, so a click of the remote was all it took.
“I’m not much of a coffee drinker.
” I knew that; guess I’d forgotten.
“Tea, then? I think I have hot chocolate mix.
” “Mmm, hot chocolate would be nice – as long as it’s not too much trouble.
” “It’s a powdered mix, Jen; even I can boil water.
” She laughed.
“You want it fortified or straight?” “Like with booze, you mean?” “Sure.
I have a few suitable things; Schnapps, that kind of thing.
” “I don’t know…” “I have a bottle of Bailey’s Chocolate Mint hanging around here somewhere; a former girlfriend liked it, but I’ll never finish it without help.
” “Ooohh, that sounds interesting.
” So that’s what I did.
When I returned with the two appropriately fortified drinks on a tray with a plate of not-quite-stale brownies, she was staring pensively into the fire.
She took the steaming mug from my hand.
Tell me something; how come, except for the few times we’ve double-dated, whenever you mention a girlfriend it’s always a ‘former’, never a current?” I grinned.
“Curious, isn’t it? I don’t know, maybe I’m an asshole or something.
Maybe I’m lousy in the sack, you think?” She smiled and touched my arm.
“Just stop; I don’t believe that’s it.
” “Which one?” She laughed softly.
” I’d had similar thoughts on occasion, wondering why things always crumbled.
The only thing I’d ever been able to come up with was that I inevitably compared my dates to Jenny, and the way my date and I related to each other to what Ryan and Jenny had, back when they were happy.
I always seemed to find something lacking, which eventually doomed any relationship.
“I honestly don’t know, Jen.
I’ve always hoped to find someone with whom I could have what you and Ryan have.
” “Of course; sorry.
” “I don’t mean because he died, Alex.
Our marriage went to shit long before that.
” “Yeah, I guess.
I’m sorry about that, too.
” That had always been one of the most puzzling things to me, that he’d thrown away a life with an incredible woman like Jenny in favor of booze and hangovers and misery.
“Don’t, okay? You did all you could.
” She paused, then continued, “Despite everything, I never cheated on him.
I want you to know that.
” “I never imagined that you did; that doesn’t seem like you.
It just drives me nuts though, Jen, the drinking himself into oblivion.
I thought I knew him.
” “Me too.
” She sighed.
“Why would he do it, knowing it made him feel like crap, being hungover and sick, or so drunk he was puking in the gutter… the humiliation of it.
Why, when he’d go through hell to get straight, did he always go back to it?” “I asked him that same thing once, when he was sober.
” “And…?” I told her what he’d told me; first, that he didn’t have the answer himself, but that, relative to detox and getting straight, the hangovers were a walk in the park.
A bottle of water the next morning – or afternoon – a handful of aspirin, a healthy shot of Maalox and he was, if not better, at least good enough to start drinking again.
Detox – withdrawal – he’d said, was a screaming, torturous hell by comparison.
At times, with demons clawing at his mind, he’d wanted to die – or drink – but he’d held out several times.
As he slowly quieted the screaming demons, he’d likened the next stage to a severe sunburn of his entire nervous system that went on for days, just a constant, gnawing pain that you couldn’t touch.
Silent tears ran down her cheeks as I talked, and I reached over and covered her hand, where it rested on her knee, with mine.
She sniffled once and reached for a Kleenex.
“And yet, despite putting himself through that, before long he’d fall off the wagon and go right back to it.
” “Yeah, I pointed that out too.
He said that he never intended to, but the longing was always there and sometimes the strength wasn’t.
He’d see a bar, or smell the booze, see someone on TV enjoying a drink.
‘Just one,’ he’d tell himself, but when the one went down so smooth and didn’t affect him, he’d figure he could have another, he could control it.
Then the third, same rationale, and after that, it was a rocket to hell.
” “Jesus…” “He had snakes in his head, Jen.
I can’t begin to figure why, or what, but he did.
I told him once that if he was going to drink, he needed to count his drinks and quit after three or four, max.
He promised he would.
The very next day, Gerry called me to come pick him up, totally wasted.
I was pissed; I asked him if he’d counted his drinks, like I’d said.
” “What did he say?” “He said he did, but that he’d lost count somewhere around eleven, maybe twelve.
He said he was sorry, but it was all just a fucking joke to him.
I could tell.
” “Try not to hate him, Alex.
It was an addiction.
” Online Now! Lush Cams ValeryTorroja “I know, and I don’t hate him… well, sometimes I do, but then, next minute, I love him and miss him.
” She nodded.
“I get that.
” We sat in silence then, each alone, but together.
Our grief was our own, but sharing this time eased the burden for both of us, I think.
We’d finished our drinks sometime before, and the brownies sat untouched.
I think we were both putting off going to bed, not willing to find out what our dreams might bring, but eventually, Jenny yawned and blew out a big, cleansing breath.
“I’m sorry, Jen; you must be exhausted, and here I sit like a useless lump.
” “I’m tired… maybe more weary and depressed than tired, but I guess I should go to bed.
Thanks for bringing me here, Alex, it would have been miserable to be alone tonight.
” “For me too.
C’mon, I’ll get you a toothbrush and some toothpaste.
I’ve got a drawer full; my dentist always gives me a bunch of that crap even though she knows I use an electric and prefer my brand of toothpaste.
” “Must come in handy for all your women visitors…” “If that was true, I wouldn’t have a drawer full, would I?” She smiled.
“I suppose not.
Do you have a t-shirt or something I can borrow to sleep in?” “Of course.
” While she opened the toothbrush package, I went and found a t-shirt that I knew was slightly big on me, which meant it would be a very roomy, oversized nightshirt on her.
It was white, with an “Ames Plumbing” logo on the front framed by an elaborate, Escherian labyrinth of pipes.
One of our suppliers had given it to me a few years ago and I’d barely worn it.
When I returned, the bathroom door was open and she was at the sink, brushing her teeth.
“Here you go.
Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She nodded, and I went on, “There are extra towels in that cabinet if you decide to shower.
I put one on the towel bar, but I know you women always need lots of towels.
” She grinned around the toothbrush and flipped me off with her other hand.
I laughed and stepped forward, giving her a quick hug, one arm around her shoulders as I pulled her against me.
“You know where to find me if you need anything.
Seriously, Jen, anything at all.
” She pulled the toothbrush from her mouth and spit into the sink.
“Thanks, Alex, really.
” I shrugged.
“That’s what friends are for.
Try to get some sleep, okay?” “You too.
” I told her goodnight and headed off to bed, only to lay awake for the next hour.
I saw one a.
go by on my clock but eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, my sorrow over my friend constantly gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.
A small sound woke me, and I opened my eyes to see Jenny framed in the doorway, backlit by the small nightlight in the hall; it was only a tiny light, but I could see the outline of her body through the white shirt, her curves and planes, and the bottom hem on her thighs, high on her long legs.
“Jen? You okay?” “Alex, I’m sorry I woke you.
” “No, it’s okay.
You all right?” “Not really, no.
Will you hold me for a while?” “Oh sure, of course.
” I was about to ask her to leave so that I could grab some pants, planning to go hold her maybe in the living room, on the sofa, but she crossed to the bed and lifted a corner of the covers.
“May I?” “Umm, yeah, sure.
I guess…” The problem was, I had no pants on at all.
I sleep in a t-shirt because I like my chest and shoulders out of the covers but shorts or pants always seem to wrap around with my movements and bind up in the crotch, so I don’t wear them.
Normally that’s not an issue; alone it makes no difference and if I have female company, we’re likely both naked anyway.
I tried to subtly angle myself on the bed so that my lower body was away from Jenny as she crawled in.
She came into my arms, turning so that her back was against my chest, and I held her.
If she had any inkling that I was nude from the waist down, she gave no sign, but soon she began to cry softly, and it changed to deep, wracking sobs before too long.
I knew there were no words, so I simply held her.
I felt like crying too, but I knew my tears would come later, unexpectedly, catching me off guard at a quiet moment when my mind wasn’t otherwise occupied.
A memory or an image of Ryan might flash through my mind, as kids on our bikes, each trying to out-dare the other, or just his smiling face, something he’d said, or we’d done together.
Perhaps a thought of him sitting at his desk, a small frown of concentration on his face as he held the phone to his ear, absent-mindedly tapping a pencil on a pad as he worked on the best deal he could make.
It would catch me off-guard, and my tears would come.
For now, Jenny needed me, and for everything that Ryan and I had together and everything we’d meant to each other, the two of them had shared more.
So, I held her as her sobs slowly changed to quiet crying, and then from that to small, exhausted whimpers, and those gradually to silence and the slow, even breathing of sleep.
My heart was breaking for her, and she seemed so small and helpless in my arms.
I suppose my protective instincts kicked in, and I was glad to be able to be there for her, as she’d been for me in the cemetery.
I didn’t intend to notice how good she felt in my arms, or how small, and I didn’t want to acknowledge her subtle but powerfully attractive scent, which was nothing more than that of her warm, healthy female body, perhaps some floral shampoo and a faint trace of the cologne she’d applied hours ago.
I tried not to marvel at how a body could feel so soft and compliant and yet so firm and lithe all at the same time.
I wanted to scoot up and spoon her, to feel her warm, perfect ass pressed to my groin and let her body mold itself to mine, but I didn’t, maintaining contact only down to my stomach, my hips and legs angled away.
I played mind games with myself, thinking of anything but how beautiful she is, or how amazing she felt in my arms, concentrating on anything else and not allowing myself to become aroused.
My mind flitted here, there, everywhere as I lay awake holding her, and after a while, maybe an hour of listening to her breathe, my scattered, darting thoughts slowed, dimmed, and winked out as I drifted into sleep.
When next I awoke, I found myself flat on my back, Jenny cuddled to my left side, her head on my shoulder.
I think what had awoken me was her placing her left hand on my chest, where it still lay; a glance at the clock showed me it was just after three a.
, and I tried not to think about the way her breasts felt, warm and soft against my ribs.
I’d awoken with a raging erection – not unusual, just one of those innocent night-time erections that happen randomly to millions of men millions of times per night around the world – and normally no big deal as far as that goes.
Might have been an erotic dream of some sort, but if so, I had no recollection of it; might also have been simply my body doing maintenance, flushing blood through my system during the downtime, running hardware diagnostics on my hydraulic systems.
I knew it would subside in a few minutes if I could just ignore it, something easier said than done with a very soft, very female form pressed against me.
I was doing okay, it may have even been fading a bit, but then she shifted again, sliding her left leg on top of me, bent at the knee but across my hips, which placed the warm, supple flesh of her inner thigh, about a foot above her knee, directly atop my hard cock.
I lay very still, my cock trapped between her leg and my stomach, silently throbbing in misery and wishing I didn’t feel like such a perv.
There was no chance of my erection subsiding on its own now, none.
Not with her scent, her warmth, her leg resting on me; if anything, it got bigger and harder.
I listened to Jenny’s slow, even breathing and watched the minutes flit by one after another on my digital clock.
I willed her to move, to roll back the other way, to slide her leg off me, and continue to sleep.
She didn’t though; instead, when she did finally move twenty-three minutes later, it was to snuggle more tightly to me, her leg moving up slightly and rubbing on my throbbing shaft.
Her hand moved down at the same time, sliding off my sternum, down my stomach, past the hem of my slightly bunched up t-shirt, and on down until it encountered the swollen head of my erection at about navel level.
Her fingers formed around it as if it were all comfortingly familiar and she settled back into slumber; I tried not to groan aloud at her touch.
I knew she would wake up and be shocked and embarrassed to find herself like this – as would I.
I knew something would awaken her, perhaps the pounding of my heart, or my accelerated breathing, the throbbing of my cock in her hand and against her leg… something.
It didn’t though, not right away.
All that changed was me sweating as her fingers moved softly and