What If

I try to hold my orgasm off as I eat her drenched cunt. Rubbing myself on the sheets as her thighs press onto my cheeks. She makes me forget all the awful things I see every day in my life.

She makes me smile for no reason while I’m sitting at my desk at work. That’s never happened to me before.

“God,” she whispers, and I press harder and rub at the special spot I’ve found inside her.

I rasp my teeth over her hardened clit, and I can’t help but jack myself off on the bedding as she reaches her peak and drenches my face.

Her cum drips down my beard as I swallow and take all of her, listening to my name as her hips jerk wildly up and down against my face.

When she finally settles, I scoop her up and spin us around. I sit on the edge of the bed and guide her down onto my still hard cock and rock us back and forth to another set of orgasms that leave her breathless and hanging onto my shoulders for dear life.

She’s breathing and kissing the taught scared flesh of my neck as I run a hand up and down the indent of her spine.

Her lips come to my ear and leave kisses there that make me moan. Deep inside her, I want her again, but her body is raw and shaking so I hold her steady and push away my own depraved need for the moment.

“What happened?” Her soft words drip into my ear as her fingertips dance on the webbed silver skin on my neck. “Can you tell me?”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” I answer even as a wave of sadness sweeps over me. “It’s not a happy story though baby. Are you sure you want to know? Now?”

She leans back, and I see the sincerity in her blue eyes. “Yes. I want to know.”

I swallow and lift her up before laying her down on her side, then lower myself facing her, my head propped up on my hand.

“My brother.” I start thinking out each word, unsure just how much I want to dump on our pleasant moment with unpleasant memories. “He was a great guy. Ten years younger than me but we were close. He wanted to be a cop like my dad and me.”

Jessie’s fingers trace a slow circle on my chest as she looks into my eyes, a soft smile at the corners of her lips.

I continue giving her the short version and leaving out some of the gory details of that night.

“Only, when he was young, we knew he was different. My parents did everything they could for him: therapy, clubs, some medications. But, in the end, he fell into a darkness that we couldn’t seem to help him out of. He took off in my dad’s car one night after a bad episode saying some crazy things. My parents called me. I was the one that, when all else failed, could sometimes calm him down. I drove around for an hour trying to find him when I heard the call.”

Jessie’s fingertips turn to a soft palm over my heart, and her lips turn down as she presses them together.

“A police call?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yep. An accident. I was just around the corner. If I had been there, caught up to him five minutes sooner maybe things would be different. He hit a tree. The fire department had his door open when I got there. He was still buckled in his seat belt. I pushed everyone out of the way, took out a knife and started to cut…” My throat closes up, and I look over her head and out the window at the sun lowering, remembering just how it looked that day. “Just as I cut through the belt, the leaking gas ignited. I pulled him out, but the flames caught my shirt and burned my neck. I couldn’t save him. No one knows for sure, but there was no sign of him trying to break before he hit the tree. He was twenty.”

“God, I’m so sorry.” She licks her lips and takes a long breath searching my eyes.

I know the story hits home for her. She’s told me in the past she’s struggled with some of her own mental illness and I accept it as much as I would someone with diabetes or any other problem. I make sure she takes her meds every day and there’s no stigma for me. Concern, for sure.

Maybe that’s why I’ve held off telling her about Jeff. I didn’t want her to feel the extra burden of my own experience, but in the end, if we are in this together, she has a right to know my past as well.

“Me too. My parents never really got over it. They passed away not too long after. First my Dad from a stroke. Then my mom from lymphoma.”