A Many Splintered Thing / Day 7: He’d dreamed of his father. Of beatings and belittlings. Of pain and pettiness.

[image error] Today was supposed to be chemo day. That has changed. For now chemo is on hold. That being said, here's ay 7. Can you believe we're on day 7 already? Time flies...

XOXO
Sommer

~~~~


“Hold on,” he said. Caleb covered the tiny mouthpiece on the phone and eyed Alice. He sighed. “Down girl.”
She looked surprised, cocked her head. When Caleb repeated the command she heaved a hefty sigh and dropped to the floor. She walked to the chair at the foot of the bed and curled up half under it. There. Look what you’ve made me do the dramatic production said.
He shook his head. “I’m back.”
“Now where is that hand?”
“Where you wanted it.”
This time it was Jasmine who sighed. “Say it, Caleb.”
“On my cock. My dick.”
“Blah. You know I hate that word,” Jasmine said, but she sounded turned on anyway.
“On my big, thick, dick, Miss Jasmine,” he said, teasing her.
“Fine. Whatever you want to call it, call it, just…” She gave a shivery breath he had to admit, it went straight to the center of him. The sound she made caused him to stroke his cock for real. Not just to amuse Jasmine.
“Just what?”
“Just touch it,” she laughed. Then, he could picture her schooling her face for the next bit, “Just stroke it. Think about me. Think about all the dirty things we’ve done together.”
That wasn’t hard.
His thumb stroked over the slick tip of his cock. He spread that tiny bit of pre-come along his skin making it silken.
“Think of all the things we’re going to do once you’re here,” she said. “God, once you’re here.”
There was a moan buried in her words and he could picture her, long elegant fingers flying along her pussy lips, her clit. She was always rough with herself. So much more so than he could ever bear to be when they were together. Unless the entire session had taken a lean toward rough. Then he was fine. But she almost got off as if she were punishing herself for some long-ago sin.
“Once I’m there,” he echoed, not realizing he was going to until he spoke. He stroked his cock harder with a tight fist. He arched his hips and found the sounds of her—doing whatever she was doing on her end—really did add to his pleasure. He was on the track to coming so much faster than he’d have been lying here in the dark, alone, thinking of nothing and everything all at once.
“I want you here, Caleb,” she said, a little breathless. “God, I want you here. I want you under me. I want to kiss you. I want you on top—don’t think I don’t know how much you get off on pinning me down and making me shut up and fucking me until I beg you—“
He felt himself slip an inch closer to release and clenched his jaw against coming too fast.
“I want you inside me. I want your mouth on me,” she whispered. He heard an echoing whisper, he thought, of her touching herself. The rustle and whoosh of slim fingers moving over tender, wet skin. “You have the best mouth,” she whispered into the phone. “I’m not kidding. When you go down on me…it’s like a fucking religious experience. And I don’t believe in that stuff.” She laughed wildly and he could tell she was close. Just by the cadence of her breath and the desperate nature of her voice.
“Going down on you is nothing but a pleasure,” he whispered. “You taste like honey and sunshine and dare I say it…flowers? You pretty much taste like summer, Jas.” He found his hips arching up, his body taking over since his mouth was running. Every bit of him prompting him to come. Because at this point it was clear he would come and he wanted to come with her.
“My favorite,” she said. “And by the way I just rolled to my belly. My hand’s trapped underneath me. And fuck me…I am so close to coming just remembering this stuff. Imagining it—wishing for it.” She exhaled a long breath and went on. “My favorite is when you’d go down on me, and suck my clit. You have this way of sucking that just…bores into the center of me. And then you’d stick to of those wicked thick fingers inside me and find my G-spot and…”
He thrust up hard into his fist, bit his lower lip, called up the memories she was describing and when she said, “Oh, Jesus, Caleb. Fuck. Fuck me…”
He came with her. Emptying over his own gripping hand, with her still so far-far away from him that touching her for real was nothing but a pipe dream.
“Well?” she sighed. Caleb could tell she was smiling.
“Well, success. We have lift-off, Captain. We have…an orgasm!”
“Good! Now how long, baby? How long until you’re here?”
“Few days, “he said, finding a box of thin, pathetic tissues to wipe his hand off.
“A few days!”
“Yes, Jas. A few days and then you’ll let me know where I’m going and we’ll figure this out. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a place to stay. I don’t have…shit.”
Nothing waiting for me but you, he thought.
That made him nervous.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “I’ll help you.” Her voice had grown softer. “I think someone’s calling me. I have to go. I’ll see you soon, lover.”
And she was gone.
Caleb snapped the phone shut and plugged it in to charge. He got up, washed his hands and his face. He turned on a terrible sitcom, grabbed a cold beer and reloaded the ice bucket with another can. Then he called Alice up on the bed with him. She looked hesitant at first and then she was totally forgiving.
“Good girl,” he said, patting her head. “It was just weird is all.”
She settled her head down not arguing with his assessment of dog-on-the-bed-during-pseudo-sex.When Caleb woke an hour later, his beer tepid, his dog sleeping, his breath coming hard inside a chest sheened with cold sweat he did a body check. Old habits die hard. He touched his face, his neck, his chest, his arms…for blood. He’d dreamed of his father. Of beatings and belittlings. Of pain and pettiness.
He rolled over once his heart calmed down. He left the TV running and the beer to grow warmer. He put a hand on Alice’s side to feel her breath. He was grateful he’d rescued her because he was certain she’d rescued him in return.
photo credit: Thomas Hawk via photopin cc