Bent & Broken Ch. 03

I backed up to the doorway.

"Please, Jimmy! I need a smoke. It's all I want."

I shook my head.

"Jimmy!" It was horror and fear in her voice, and the sound wavered and cracked.

She screamed and buried her face in the mattress. She screamed how it wasn't fair. She screamed how I didn't care about her and how no one did. She cried uncontrollably, and it was maybe the saddest thing I ever saw—Claire, completely undressed and spread out against the bed with her ass in the air, bawling like a child, wailing against her suffering.

She kept saying my name and crying, shrieking "Jimmy!" again and again. It was the one word that carried her through this horrific grief. She shook and pounded the bed with her arms.

Then, she just fell back on the floor with a crash.

I went to her, caressed her back, and then I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. With a soapy washcloth, I cleaned her up. She didn't say a word. I only heard the occasional sniffle.

After, I cleaned her face, dressed her, and brushed her hair.

Then, I helped her up and took her for a walk. The sun presided over us, warm and bright. I held her hand. By the time we turned back, Claire walked with some energy. Her face flushed with color.

When we got home, I put her on the yoga mat and stretched her. There was nothing sexual. I helped her more at first, but by the end, she had taken control.

I got her a fresh cup of ice water, wiped down her face, and set her up on the couch. We watched HGTV in silence.

When she looked bored, I sat her up and gave her her tablet. She was getting much better at managing it herself, and I watched her check some social media sites. I screwed around on my phone; she read and sent some emails.

I fed her dinner, and she fell asleep early.

On Thursday morning, when I walked into her room, I knew we were through it. The tranquility of her expression told me so.

She didn't smile and didn't talk. I fed her and helped her where I could.

She went for a walk by herself. I heard her shower by herself.

After lunch, she finally spoke. "Jimmy, my legs are getting too itchy. I need you to shave them for me. Do you think you can?"

I nodded. "Sure."

We did it in the tub. When I got the hang of it, she laid back with her eyes closed. When I finished both legs, she told me to shave her vagina.

She'd said "vagina." That was different.

She had to give me some guidance, and none of the act was tinted with sexual excitement. I really felt like a nurse. I finished the job and she thanked me.

My cock had been like stone, but she hadn't noticed—or if she had, she hadn't cared.

That afternoon, she called for me from the apartment den. I came down. She was sitting on the couch with her tablet in her lap.

"Jimmy, a friend is coming to see me this weekend. Flying in Friday night and flying home Sunday."

"Okay."

"Is your Mom coming back?"

"Last time we spoke, no."

She nodded. "Well, then it looks like you're off the hook. My friend wants to help take care of things."

"Really?"

"He's a doctor. He knows what he's doing."

He. He? "Is he your boyfriend or something?"

"We've dated. On and off. Yes, I suppose."

"You've been injured like this for almost two weeks and your boyfriend—a doctor—just now decides to come and visit?"

"Jimmy, don't...look, he's got a ton of patients. It's a private practice. He can't just up and leave whenever he feels like it."

I considered this and said, "Claire, he's got a private practice. That means he can—he can—just up and leave whenever he feels like it. That's the reason why you start a private practice, isn't it? To be your own boss?"

"Jimmy, don't be jealous."

"I'm not jealous, Claire. I'm not."

"It's sweet of you, but..."

"Claire," I said, directly and simply, "I understand our situation, and this isn't some boy crush jealousy I'm feeling. I know I'm never going to date you. I know there's zero future for us. Zero. I get it."

"Then what the fuck is your problem? Go have fun with your friends."

I forced a smile. "Okay. Call me if you need anything." I turned and left.

I went up to my room, emptied my book shelf and dragged it downstairs and into the garage. I found my old baseball bat, and I annihilated the bookshelf.

Fuck, it felt good. I didn't curse or scream. I grunted and swung that bat, and I saw chips of particle board and laminate wood smash and fly all over the garage.

I was panting when I finished. There wasn't a hunk of shelf bigger than a book left intact. I picked up the pieces, swept up the rest, and put it all in the dumpster.

Yeah, I was jealous. More than that, though, I was angry. This felt like a betrayal. I was the fucking one who sacrificed these two weeks of my summer for her. I fed her, dressed her, cleaned her up. I saw her through her fucking addiction and put up with all the threats and the name calling and the bullshit. I'd resisted opportunities to completely take advantage of her.

I wished I'd fucked her ass. Right then, fuck, I wished it. Oh, what I would have done to that ass.

She'd had me shave her pussy. What? To help her get ready for her boyfriend's visit?

Fucking bitch.

And there she was, downstairs, probably shaking her head. Oh, I feel bad for the kid, she was probably thinking. He had a little crush on me. So sweet.

Fuck you, Claire. Fuck you.

***

I did my job for her dutifully that evening and the next morning. We didn't talk unless we had to.

She tried to bring it up once, asking, "Jimmy, will you please talk to me? Tell me why you're so upset."

"I'm not upset Claire. I'm fine." I crinkled my face into a smile. "Let's finish eating."

Before I left her room for the last time, I asked her if she needed anything else before he came.

"No. Thanks, Jimmy."

"Are you sure? I mean, if you need me to help shave your pussy again, so that it's totally, totally ready for your boyfriend, just let me know."

I left before she could respond.

I spoke to my Mom late in the afternoon. She was staying in D.C. for the weekend.

I also spoke to a girl who graduated with me. Brie Barton. She hadn't heard from me in over a year. I asked her on a date.

She was a skinny thing with no tits and no ass, but she had a cute, if beaten down, face. And she put out. A lot.

At some point, Claire's boyfriend arrived. I wasn't around to greet him.

I took Brie to a nice dinner, and she wanted to play putt-putt, which was weird, but I took her to a place. I brought her home at around 10:30, and we started to get drunk on Mom's liquor.

"Who's downstairs?" she asked. We could hear muffled voices and movement.

"My aunt and her boyfriend. Forget about them."

I took Brie by the hand and let her into the living room. I laid a blanket on the floor beside, but not covering the vent where I had eavesdropped on Mom's conversation with Claire after I'd been caught with my cock out. Yes, I could hear everything down there, but I didn't care about that.

I knew they could hear everything up here.

I made out with Brie on the floor. She was not sexy. Not like Claire. She was sufficient to get me hard, and she marveled at my cock when she pulled it out.

She sucked me, and she was quick to solve the bend problem. She was good, but I wasn't interested in getting blown.

I lifted her off me, laid her on the blanket, and fucked her. Success.

"Ow, fuck!" she squealed. "Go slow, Jimmy!" Her voice resonated, and she wasn't quiet.

Within about four full strokes, she got real loud. She liked saying "Uh-huh" and "Uh-hmm." It was actually really fucking annoying. Made me fuck her harder.

She wailed and cried out when she came, and I knew downstairs they were getting a fucking earful.

I didn't cum.

Brie laid there, recovering, and I sat against the sofa.

Things were quiet in the house. Brie crawled over to me and began to suck on my dick. I let her. I sat up on my knees.

She stopped. "Lay down so we can sixty-nine," she suggested.

"No, come here," I said. She didn't go where I wanted. "No, keep sucking, but put your ass over here." I gestured to my side.

She did, and I lifted her upside down. Her pussy was in my face, and I gave it a few hesitant licks. Brie's upside down blowjob was pretty fucking good.

We were in the center of the living room carpet when I saw two shadows emerge, silently, in the kitchen. The first was tall. The second was Claire. I could see the silhouettes of her casts. She looked across the kitchen into the living room. We were illuminated by one lamp, and Claire's form, by the light from the entryway hall.

I said, "Brie, I'm going to cum. Swallow it."

The shadows vanished into the entryway.

I wasn't going to cum. I just wanted Claire to hear me. I put Brie back down.

"I thought you were gonna," she complained.

"I was getting tired. Look, just suck the tip and jerk me."

She did, and it worked.

Brie was staying at her parent's and, thankfully, refused the offer to stay the night. I invited her out the next night. Dinner and a movie? She nodded.

On Saturday night, I had to put things off. Claire and Doctor Boyfriend had gone somewhere. I maneuvered around Brie's advances until after 11:00. They came in and met us in the kitchen.

"Brie, this is my Aunt Claire. Claire, Brie." They hugged.

Claire said, "Brie, Jimmy, this is Dr. Hannnah."

I nodded. "Dr. Hannah."

He smiled. "Call me Guy."

"Nice to meet you, Guy." We shook hands.

They left, but not before Claire and I exchanged a look. Hers said, "Really, Jimmy?" Mine said, "Eat it, Claire."

I took Brie into the living room, and I fucked her. Then, I fucked her ass.

It was perfect. She came louder than an air horn when I fucked her cunt. When I put it in her ass, she was noisy, but most of it was obviously acting—she knew what to say to a guy to get him to cum and get it over with: "Do it, Jimmy! Fuck my ass!" "I love that big dick in my asshole!" "Cum in me, Jimmy!"

I did. She went home and I cleaned up.

Eat it, Claire.

I came downstairs after midnight. Dr. Guy was in the kitchen, drinking a beer.

"Hey, hope you don't mind me hanging out. Claire's asleep."

"You're fine."

"Where's your girlfriend?" he asked.

"Oh, no. I just fuck her. She left."

He laughed. "To be in college again." He shook his head.

"How's Claire?"

"Definitely not herself," he said, and then he took a sip and asked, "Say, Jimmy? Ask a favor of you?"

"What?"

"The living room, you know, is right over the apartment downstairs. I don't mean to embarrass you or anything, but we can pretty much hear everything that happens in that room."

"Oh, sorry about that."

"No. No. It's just, if you guys are going to do that, could you take it upstairs? We'd really appreciate it."

"She's not coming back."

"Oh, well, anyways. Thanks, Jimmy."

"Guy, mind if I ask you something?"

"No, sure, go ahead."

"Did we screw up you and Claire? I'd hate to think our noises ruined your chances."

"Oh! No. Claire isn't up for anything like that, yet."

"Good. Don't want to be a cock blocker."

He laughed. "No, no. You didn't."

I grabbed my phone off the counter and went back to bed.