Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 229

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

Chapter 229: So Good

It's so good.

She's hot and wet and wrapped around him, and it's just so fucking good. He's standing up and has his arms under her legs, his body and the wall keeping her up, and its hot and fast and deep, so, so deep, balls deep, buried in her body, every millimeter of his cock in soft, wet, hot, glorious, tight pussy, and they're going full out against the wall and she can kiss him and her hands are clenched in his hair as her lips move over his and her breasts rub against his chest and it's all so good.

It's better than good. This is just ten million shades of marvelous and its better than sex has ever been and he's just so high and tight and turned on and hard, so hard, never been this hard, his eyelashes are hard, pounding into her and she's riding him back just as fast, moaning his name, scratching his back bloody as she cries against him, coming in hot, clenching waves of pleasure.

She's on her back, missionary style, one leg over his shoulder, the other wrapped around his back, heel on his thigh. It's as fast as he can go, relentless, thrusting over and over, burying himself in her, chasing a blazing orgasm that's barely inches away.

And he feels so incredible. Like his whole body is going to come. Like every cell's about to tingle and pulse.

And so tight, she's a hot, slick vise, perfect friction, perfect pressure, so incredibly good, so close, wanting, moving, so hard he hurts, not quite there, almost, almost.

Her hand slides behind him, rubbing, cupping his balls and he's a whole level higher. Didn't think he could get more turned on than he is, but he was wrong. So hot, so hard, so wanting.

Fast, hot, slick, wet, velvet, silk, tight and thrust.

Her fingers find their target and blinding white hot pleasure pressure to go with fast and hard and hot and slick and tight and it's just the best orgasm ever, he's riding high on wet, thrusting pulses and scorching tingles through his whole body and God he's never, ever felt this good and…

"Tim! Wake up! Water broke!"

He was still three quarters in the dream, aware that something really important was happening, but he was also still coming and between that and sleep he was having a really hard time figuring out what was going on so he said, "Huh?"

Abby poked him, hard. "Water broke. Kelly's coming. We have to get to the hospital now!"

Okay, that got the brain re-engaged. "Okay," he's springing into action when something hits him. "How wet are you?"


"Is it just your ass and the back of your thighs?"

She thought about that, seemed to be doing a little mental checking. "Yeah."

It's dark in their room so she can't see the fact that he's blushing like crazy. (Of course, even if the lights were on, he's also covered in a sex flush, so she would have missed the blush, but would have seen the cum dripping off of him and figured this out a little sooner.)

"Taste it."

"What?" Her voice sounds like he's completely lost it and she's not appreciating him going utterly insane right this second of all seconds.

He closed his eyes, feeling horrifically embarrassed by this. "Just had a wet dream. Might not be amniotic fluid."

She takes a tentative lick. He can't really see the expression on her face, but he can tell by her tone of voice she's annoyed. "You're cleaning that up."

"Yes, dear."

He kept the lights off. It's hard enough to get back to sleep if you get up and really do something, and light just makes that worse.

She comes out of the bathroom, washed up he assumes, and leans against the dresser, waiting for him to get done stripping off the sheets and putting new ones on.

"I was actually asleep, you know."

"Yeah. I guessed."

"I mean really asleep. Nothing hurt. No weird dreams. Just beautiful, restful, solid sleep. The kind I haven't had more than two hours of in a row for like three months."

"I'm really sorry."

He got the new sheets on and patted her side of the bed. "Let's see if you can get back to sleep."


"You can at least try. Got three more hours until normal wake up time."

She got into bed, and he snuggled up behind her.

"You cheated."


"No orgasms. You cheated."

"I was asleep."

She's not buying that.

"If I had cheated, that wouldn't have happened. That hasn't happened since before I figured out how to jerk off, and trust me, that wasn't something that took me long to figure out."

She snorts a quick laugh at that. "Good dream?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

"How good?"

"Well, I got off without any touching, so pretty damn good."

"What were we doing?"

"If I answer that, is that a good thing, or is that just a get you horny and frustrated type of thing. 'Cause, if I fall off the wagon here, nothing happens. You do, and the results may be more troublesome than wet sheets."

She groaned. "Give me a general answer, and then I'll try to go back to sleep."

"Fucking each other so hard we were shaking the paint off the walls."

"Oh." That's a half moan half sigh all yes I want that NOW!

"Yeah. One day, soon, Kelly will be out, and you'll be all healed up, and Breena and Jimmy are going to babysit, and we're going to fuck until we can't anymore."

"That sounds go good."

"It will be." He kisses her shoulder. "And, sooner yet, when she's out, and there's no more danger, I will tell you all about it, every, single, scorching hot detail, and that time, we'll go soft and slow and just get used to it again, and that's going to be good, too."

He was settling back into sleep again when she asked, "So, how did you figure it out?"


"How to jerk off. Said it didn't take you long to figure it out. How'd you figure it out?"

He rubs his eyes. "Ummm…" And thinks back. Obviously there was a time he didn't know how to do it, but the memory of that time was awfully fuzzy. After a few seconds it clicked. "Oh. Yeah. So, would have been eleven, and…well… okay, look, if you're an eleven-year-old guy, you're basically an erection on legs. It's poking up all the time and anything and nothing at all will cause one. And the whole time that's happening it feels like there's a massive spotlight on your crotch showing everyone on Earth that you've got a constant hard on."

She laughs at that.

"It really wasn't fun."

"I believe you. Still, I was at a sleepover when I got my first period, with all my friends, and bled all over the place, and of course my friend's mom wasn't home, just her dad, so… for some reason I'm just not feeling overwhelming sympathy to what was, in fact, a not wildly visible problem on your part."

"Fine, you win the puberty sucks contest. Still, wasn't much fun."


"Anyway, eventually, your eleven-year-old-male body takes care of the issue with some fairly intense dreams and waking up, horrified, with your pajamas glued to you. Oh, and yeah, telling your friend's dad 'I just started my period' probably wasn't fun, but I suddenly had all of this extra laundry, and the person who did the laundry was my mom, my Catholic mom, my Catholic mom, who has never, not once, in the almost 38 years I've known her, mentioned sex in my presence. In fact, the only reason I knew what was going on was one, brief, and horrendously uncomfortable conversation with my very Catholic grandfather about the 'facts of life' and how certain things would start happening to me soon, and that I should really just try to ignore it and channel my energies in more constructive directions."

"Okay, I'll give you a tie on the puberty sucks award."

"Thank you. So, it's the middle of the night, I'm in wet, sticky, clammy pajamas, and have to do something about it. Can't just shove them in the laundry hamper because she washes my clothing and, well, it's got a pretty distinctive smell, and… yeah… got to figure something out. We were in this little bungalow house and her room and bathroom were downstairs. So I creep off to the bathroom I shared with Sarah, pushed her tubby toys out of the way, put the pajamas in the sink to soak, and just wiped everything off.

"Okay, another thing about eleven-year-old-boys, they're not great on personal hygiene. They're usually still in the I-hate-baths phase of life. In fact, if I had to guess, this is the moment that ends the I-hate-baths phase of most guys' lives. So, first time it happens I take care of it with some toilet paper and leave it be.

"But I'm a eleven-year-old guy, so this isn't just a one-time thing. Second time it happened I did sleep through it and woke up, usual time, awfully crusty and literally glued to my pjs. And if there's something you don't want to do, it's yanking PJs that are cemented to your privates off.

"So, second time, into the shower I go. Thinking that if I get the PJs wet I can sort of peel them off. Anyway, I'm in there, slowly peeling the PJs off, and I noticed that felt pretty good, so once they were off I kind of kept messing around.

"And, soap, warm water, hard on, and yeah, it didn't take too long to figure out that if I was…" he pauses for a second to think of a good way to describe this, "thorough and vigorous in my washing technique that showers were a whole lot more fun, and I stopped having problems with sticky pajamas."

Abby laughed at that.

"And suddenly I no longer needed to be badgered to get showers. I was perfectly happy to do it as many times a day as I could. In fact I was starting to get lectured about using up too much hot water and how washing up three times a day wasn't good for my skin, which decided right about then was a good time to turn traitor and make my life miserable, but that's not really related to this."

Abby laughed at that too, taking his hand in hers and kissing his palm.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I needed a good laugh."

He kissed her shoulder. "Anytime, baby, anytime. So, how about you? How'd you figure it out."

Abby sighed. "It's a dumb story."

"I like dumb stories."

"Okay. So, I'm eighteen—"

"Hold up. You were eighteen when you figured it out?"


"You were having sex with other people before you started having sex with yourself?"

"I was eighteen before I got myself off. I'd messed around before that, but didn't manage to do it."

"How is that possible?" He gets up, circles around their bed, and settles in front of her, wanting to have this conversation face to face without making her have to roll over.

"Everything I could find focused on penetration, but that didn't do it for me and no one I knew had any real information about girls getting off."

"Really?" He looks utterly stunned by this.

"No, I'm making this up because I enjoy you staring at me in stupefaction. Yes, really. Quick, off the top of your head, tell me some pop culture reference about a girl masturbating?"

It takes a second but he comes up with something. "That song, 'When I think about you I touch myself.'"

"I was a sophomore in college when that came out, so that's got to be '91 or '92."


"Can you think of anything else, let alone anything that might be specific enough to be useful?"

He really thought about it, but… he was fourteen the year she was eighteen and his mom and dad were awfully strict about what he was allowed to watch or read. Sure, he snuck things, but nothing was springing to mind. "Ummm… nope."

"Yeah, and if there was, I didn't know about it. I mean, we all knew guys did it. Plenty of jokes about that. But, not so much on what to do about if you're a girl."

"Didn't you… get horny?"

"Sure. A lot."

"What'd you do about it?"

"Be really frustrated. Read Anne Rice books, which since I didn't know about the Beauty books, was pretty frustrating too. Probably should have read romance novels or Cosmo or something, probably would have let me know what target I should have been shooting for, but, they just always seemed so dumb, I couldn't make myself do it. Made out with boyfriends, also frustrating. Got some tattoos. Partied with Paulette. Messed around with myself, but didn't find the trick to it. Lots of 'intense dreams' as you put it. Got to college, met a guy, liked him enough to have sex with him and it was, well, okay. But if you're a girl, the idea is that sex, penetration, is supposed to get you off, but for most of us it doesn't work that way. So when I was messing around with myself, I didn't know what target I was aiming for.

"But while I didn't have much on female masturbation, pretty much everything agrees that sex is supposed to be a whole lot of fun. And I knew I wasn't frigid. I wanted it to be good. I was certainly eager for it. I knew there had to be a way to make it better. And he did, too, so one day he asked me to show him what I did with myself, and I didn't have an answer for that, because I really wasn't doing myself, which blew his mind, because like you he'd been doing himself for years and couldn't believe I wasn't."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of hard to believe. If you're a guy it's like figuring out how to breathe or blink. We're all pretty good with it on automatic."

"Wonderful. I'm taking back the puberty sucks award."

He nodded along with that, saying, "And I think it's clear you absolutely deserve it."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he very lightly licked it.

"Look, I would have gone insane if I hadn't gotten off until I was 18."

She smiled at that. "Yeah, well, I probably wouldn't have had any trouble figuring it out myself if it had been seven inches long and sticking straight up in front of me."

He flashed her his self-depreciating look. "I was eleven, not nearly that big then."

"Was it the size of a clit?"


"I rest my point."

He chuckled a little at that, resting his hand on her belly, feeling Kelly squirm a bit. "So, you're 18. He's asking you for pointers, and you didn't have any."

"Exactly. But New Orleans was only a few hours away. So one Saturday we caught the bus, headed down, found a sex shop and bought out the instruction manuals."

"Jimmy's got a story like that, too."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up at that idea. "I haven't heard that story."

"Yeah, though his version of it involved hitting on the library girl while asking her to get the books on inter-library loan."

"Oh, God! I am so going to have to ask him about that. Anyway, we got the books, we read, we tried, and finally knowing what to aim for, figuring it out got a whole lot easier."

"Huh. Never thought about that."

"Yeah, well, when did you figure out how to get a girl off?"

"This might be another difference between California and Louisiana, but Sex Ed class in eighth grade had full-on sketches of the anatomy, what was what, and what it all did. I mean, I didn't know what to do with a clit until I was twenty-one and actually had a real girlfriend, but I knew they existed and why they existed long before that."

Abby thinks about that. She did have health class in eighth grade, and remembered the curriculum being mostly how babies were made, menstruation, and don't ever have any sex at all until you get married because there's his horrible new disease out there and we don't know a whole lot about it but if you get it you'll die. "Or it could be our age difference showing. For all I know that might have been standard for eight grade, when you got there, but that was the year I was a senior in high school."

"Could be."

"So, really, three times a day?"

He smiles at her, chuckling. "More than that sometimes; that's just what I was doing in the shower. All of us have a story about the time we decided snag mom's Victoria's Secret catalog and locked ourselves in the bathroom to see how many times we could do it until we couldn't anymore."

That makes her laugh. "So, if we ever have any boys, I'm thinking they'll be in charge of doing their own laundry about the time they turn ten."

"Yeah, that would have headed off a lot of embarrassment. Or at least not asking them about it if they suddenly feel a burning need to do their own laundry. You ever hear Tony's story about that?"

"Tony's got a story about that?"

"Oh yeah." He's got a wicked grin on his face. That was a pretty late night (somewhat inebriated) conversation between him, Tony, and Palmer, and it was awfully funny and made Tim very glad he'd never been at boarding school. "Dealing with mom is one thing. Boarding school, where you've got no privacy, and get issued two pairs of pajamas and one set of sheets per week is a whole other story."

That got another laugh. "Poor boy."


She squeezed his hand. "I should try to get some more sleep."


No comments:

Post a Comment