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Not now she isn’t. She left you.
I kept my eyes closed and remembered the vision of her beautiful lips closing over the bell end of my cock and taking me in. How wet and warm and exquisite her mouth felt that first time. How beautiful the moment when she swallowed and looked up at me in that sexy, mysterious way she has. I never know what she is thinking. She is a woman after all.
I remembered everything—the sounds she made, her long hair all about her face, the slick slide against her warm lips, the grip on the shaft as she twisted and pulled me deep into her beautiful mouth.
I remembered that special time with Brynne back then, as I jerked myself to an empty climax in my very pathetic and lonely present. I had to remember or I wouldn’t have got off. I cried out as the spunk shot out the top of my cock in a near painful rush, all over the sheets on my bed, shiny white against the black. It should be her! I panted against the headboard and let the release spread throughout my body, angered that I just wanked off to her image like some desperate freak.
I couldn’t care less about the mess. Sheets can be washed. My mind cannot.
I can remember every time I was in her.
The emptiness invading me is something almost cruel, and the climax definitely no substitute for the real thing. Very hollow and utterly useless.
No possible way, Benny! He’s far too beautiful to have to resort to his hand for an orgasm.
Yeah, right. I got up and stripped the sheets from the bed and headed for my shower. Nothing but her will ever be enough.
?
She rang me that afternoon on my mobile. I missed her call because of an idiot meeting. I wanted to hurt the morons who’d taken my time but I hit voice mail instead.
“Ethan, I—I got your letter.” Her voice sounded thready and the urge to go to her was so great I didn’t know how I would manage to keep away. “Thanks for sending it. The flowers are beautiful too. I—I just wanted you to know that I talked to my dad and he told me some stuff—”
She lost her composure then. I could hear the sounds of muffled crying. I knew she was, and it broke my heart wide open. “I have to go...maybe later we could talk.” She whispered the last. “Bye, Ethan.” And then she hung up.
I thought I would crack the glass in my mobile punching buttons to redial, praying she picked up and would speak to me. Time slowed down interminably while the call connected. Once, twice, three rings. My heart pounded and the need for air increased—
“Hi.” Just one little word. But it was her voice and she was directing it to me. I could hear noises in the background. Like traffic.
“Brynne…how are you? You sounded upset on your message. I was in a meeting…” I trailed off realizing I’d started rambling. I forced my mouth closed and desperately wished for a lovely black clove cigarette.
She breathed heavy into the receiver. “Ethan, you said to call if anything weird happened—”
“What happened? Are you all right? Where are you right now?” I felt my blood run cold at her words and the sound of her voice. “Are you outside?”
“I’m on a run at the moment. I had to get out of my head for a bit and just take a break.”
“I’m coming to you. Tell me where you are.”
She got quiet. I could hear the cars moving around her and I hated being forced to endure the imagined visualization of where she was at the moment. Alone on the street. Vulnerable. Unprotected.
“Will you tell me, please? I have to see you—we need to talk. And I want to hear what worried you enough to ring me and leave that message earlier.” More silence. “Baby, I can’t help if you won’t let me in.”
“Did you see it?” Her voice changed, becoming harsh.
“See what?” I swear I only wanted to go to her and get her in my arms. Her question didn’t register at first. The cold silence on the other end helped me to figure it out real quick though.
“Did you watch it, Ethan? Answer my question.”
“The sex tape of you and Oakley?”
She made a sound of anguish.
“Fuck no! Brynne…” The fact she even asked me such a thing pissed me off. “Why would I do that—”
“It’s hardly a sex tape!” she yelled into my ear. My chest ached like a knife had been shoved in.
“Well, that’s what your dad told me it was!” I yelled back at her, confused by her questioning and utterly at a loss in this fucked up conversation we were having. If I could talk to her in person, get close to her, make her look me in the eye and listen, I might have a chance. But this fractured argument was getting us nowhere fast. I tried again in a more reasonable tone. “Brynne, please let me come to where you are.”
