Honest-Honest Ch. 04

When it emerged, I watched Amy's asshole cinch closed, sealing everything inside. I released her with my hands and legs, and she sagged down flat on the bed, groaning.

I sat beside her, alternately watching her ass—utterly still like some defeated prey—and my cock, collapsing like a wounded eagle.

The soaring, awful pleasure that I had been feeling stole away. It was replaced by shame. I had fucked the living hell out of Amy's ass, and it was vengeance and anger that had driven me. She had asked me, begged me to do it, but there was no mistaking the idea that, despite my early protests, I had luxuriated in the act like some hateful devil. What the fuck had I been thinking?

I wanted her to say something, anything, even if it was anger.

What she gave me was even worse: weeping.

Ah, Shit.

I reached over and touched her shoulder.

She flinched, saying, "Don't, Mike."

I pulled away. I needed to understand what she was thinking. Was this sadness about our break up or about how I had fucked her? "Amy," I began, "tell me what you're thinking."

"What the fuck do you think, Mike?" She sniffled, and then she sat up, grabbed some clothes out of her bag and went into the bathroom.

I walked over to my dresser and put on clothes, thinking.

Did I love Amy? Could I have fucked a woman that I truly loved the way I'd just fucked Amy? When I said the words to her at my apartment door, I thought I believed them, but now I wondered.

What did I love? Her? Or the sight of her, smiling and standing at my apartment door? Her coming here had meant she believed me. I wasn't alone anymore. It meant that, back at her house, I said the right things to her. It meant she believed in herself again, and that I had been instrumental in orchestrating the change. It meant sex, and I hadn't had any in a long time. So, did I love her or did I love that she showed up? I didn't know.

And there was what Scott had said to me on the phone. Nothing he said was really a surprise. It made sense. Our relationship was a family-crushing thing. Why hadn't I considered that before telling Amy that I loved her? How could I not have contemplated the wider ramifications of our relationship? How could I be in love with my own cousin?

And there was the anger I had felt when I fucked her ass. That rage had been fresh and powerful, not something that I had long ago mastered and put aside, no way. Was I conning Amy, not in any premeditated way, of course, but subconciously? Had my anger just been waiting for the right trigger to lash out at her?

Fuck.

Doubt put holes in me like a machine gun. All of the faith I had in us spilled out.

When she emerged from the bathroom, I followed her from room to room like some stray puppy, keeping a distance, unsure of what to say, and hoping she might say something first.

She didn't. She gathered her belongings, stuffed them in her bag, and then sat down to arrange her ride to the airport on her phone.

A minute or so later, she stood up and said, "Don't walk me down."

I tried to remain composed, but inside I was frantic for some understanding.

She walked to the door.

I went bold.

Darting in front of her, I took her arms in my hands. "Amy, stop."

She looked up at me.

I continued, "How can we be honest-honest with each other if you won't tell me what you're thinking and feeling?"

She stared, her face inscrutable. Then, she said, "Mike, what's the point of honesty when there's no more to say to each other? It's over. Let me go."

I released her. She walked past me and turned down the hall toward the steps.

As she descended, I got desperate. Fuck honest-honest. Even if I was riddled with doubts, I wanted her to know that I still cared. I called out, "Amy, I won't say it! I know you don't want me to say the words, but you can't stop me from thinking them!"

She stopped. Her head turned just slightly as if to respond. Was she crying?

I waited for it.

But, she turned forward, continuing down the steps and out of sight.

***

Note: More to come. I must beg for a little patience. Thank you for reading! FS