Honest-Honest Ch. 06

I didn't make out with her in the hallway. I held her.

I didn't carry her to my bedroom to fuck. I carried her to the couch, wrapped her in blankets, and brought her some water.

We sat together, side by side, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her back.

She cried, and I said, "I'm here for you now, Amy. I'm with you."

A half-hour or so passed before Amy spoke. She asked for something to eat and decided upon soup.

Making it, I had a chance to see her, really see her. Katy's description failed to prepare me.

Amy had always been skinny—she's 6' 2" for crying out loud—but now she was...fuck, she looked like a prisoner of war. Her skin seemed thin and papery. She was gaunt and pale. Her eyes were sunken. Her hair seemed stringy and brittle. I felt the difference when I carried her into the apartment. I could have done a set of bicep curls with her body. Seeing her this way infuriated me.

Then, there was the curiosity of her nose. Where the fuck was it? Do people change that much in their twenties?

And her breasts. They were not at all how I remembered them. Even under that blanket, they seemed really, really big.

It was getting late when Amy arose and declared she was going to check in to her hotel.

I didn't say a word. I extended my hand to her; she took it and followed me. I led her into the guest room.

She stopped at the threshold, apparently stunned by the array of gifts piled on the bed.

"This room is yours, if you want it," I said.

She covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes reddened. "Thank you, Mike."

"Will you stay here?"

She nodded and tried to smile. She walked over to the bed and scanned the pile of presents. "These are for me?"

I grinned and nodded. "Open them, Amy. I want to see if you like what I found."

There were probably more misses than hits, but it didn't matter. For twenty minutes, Amy was Amy, smiling and opening presents with eagerness.

She took a shower while I brought up her bag from the rental car.

She called me in when she climbed into bed. I stood in the doorway.

"Do you still love me, Michael? Honest-honest?"

I knew it would come at some point, her question. I answered gently. "I don't know, Amy. I missed you; I thought about you all the time. I know I loved you before. A lot of time has passed since that day, you know?"

She nodded, sadly.

"I care about you, and as long as you're here, you're my princess, okay?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose. "Did you find someone? In all that time?"

I thought about Misha. "That's not an easy question for me. It's nothing I want to answer right now, if that's okay."

Amy nodded.

"I hope it suffices if I say that I never had a girlfriend, but I wasn't always lonely."

"It was that woman at the hospital I saw—the short African-American woman, wasn't it?"

My eyes had to have given away the answer. I could not imagine how Amy might have guessed that. When I had collected myself, I said, "Tamisha. Yes, she's a good friend."

"She was there at the hospital by herself. She was crying and talking to you. It just seemed like she cared a lot about you."

"Everything from those days is a little hazy."

"You were out of it," she said, and after a moment passed, she asked, "Do you love her?"

I didn't respond immediately.

Amy said, "You don't want to talk about it, yet. I'm sorry. Forget I asked."

"It's okay," I said, "She's married, Amy, with four kids. She loves her family."

She gave me a look-disappointment. "Mike, please, be honest-honest with me."

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment, and then said, "It ended about a month ago, and yes, I think I did."

Amy sighed. "Thank you." She reached across and turned off her light.

I left, closing the door behind me.

We ate together. She slept a ton. I recuperated; a little buzz of hair was growing back. I looked like a soldier. She began to look like herself again. We went for long, long walks.

I told Amy about Misha.

She told me about Vaughn.

***

Their first meeting, courtship, and even the first six months of Amy's marriage were all sweetness. This changed.

It wasn't sudden.

It began, as some tragedies do, with a joke. Vaughn, Amy's husband, made a gentle remark about Amy's nose. It had been pushing into his stomach as Amy gave him oral sex. They giggled about it.

It opened the door for Vaughan to dig around for Amy's own view of her body. He asked her if she'd ever thought of getting plastic surgery.

"Yes! What girl hasn't thought of those things? With all the pressure to fit some impossible ideal, every girl..."

Vaughan interrupted. "What about breast enhancement? Have you ever thought of that?"

She didn't say a word.

Soon, Amy's husband was regularly making suggestions about her body, her clothes, and even her personality. And the joking continued, but with a sharper edge.

"How can you—you of all people, Amy—not smell that?"

"You know what they say, Amy, about a man's nose and it's relationship to his cock? So why isn't your nose related to those little tits of yours?" He laughed. Amy tried to smile.

Amy had her first surgery a month later: rhinoplasty. The surgeon did his job well. Vaughn was pleased. Amy convinced herself she was happy.

She began to eat less and work out more. Vaughan had a successful business. The money was there for Amy to stay at home.

One evening, Vaughan told Amy he wanted her to use her breasts to please him. Amy tried; there just wasn't enough flesh to grip him. Vaughn said, "Fucking forget it, Amy. It's no use. Just suck on it, please."

A few months later, Amy had her second surgery: breast enhancement. Vaughn loved it; Amy began to hate herself.

Daily, she drank Vodka in anticipation of her husband's arrival home. Vaughn called her on it one evening. They began to argue, and Amy stood up for herself.

Amy's husband, however, was not a fair fighter. He struck at her fears: her body, her height, her self-esteem. All of these came under attack. Vaughn was the kind of guy who would rather destroy a relationship than lose an argument. He unleashed on Amy.

When Amy folded, Vaughn pounced.

"How the fuck could anyone love you?" he roared, "The fat-assed, weak-willed, freak of your family. I should have married Katy."

He left and didn't return until early in the morning.

Amy drank and starved herself. She quit working out.

There were apologies from her husband; they tried to find their love for each other again, but Vaughn was the kind of guy who hated the very sight of weakness, and Amy's self-confidence was obliterated. Before long, they lived together like predator and prey.

***

Amy and I never even kissed during those days. One night, she told me she just wasn't ready.

I told her the only thing I wanted was for her to feel better.

I also told her about the job offer. She was happy for me and encouraged me, so I called the President and said that I wanted the job. In a week, I would start as the new Plant Manager.

Amy couldn't stand the idea of being alone in the apartment for so long, but she didn't want to leave, either.

One night, we were watching tv, and Amy asked, "Would it be alright if I asked Katy to stay here, just for a little while?"

I turned and stared at her. "Huh?"

"Can Katy live here for a while?"

"Wha...doesn't she have a job?"

"She works from home; she does everything by computer."

"Do you need her here?"

Amy nodded. "I'm not ready to be alone for so long. Not yet."

"Then, sure. Ask her."

A few days later, Katy arrived. Cynthia, I'm sure, was pleased. I vacated my bedroom for the couch. Katy took over my room. She was kind about it—grateful and sweet. The girls shared the master bath, and I took the guest bath.

Sleeping on the couch kind of sucked, at first. Later, I decided it may have been a blessing. As Plant Manager, I was responsible for all three shifts. Apart from meetings and other scheduled events during the normal working hours, I came and went as I pleased to supervise all three shifts. Being on the couch, I could come and go pretty quietly from the apartment.

There were two stunningly attractive and sexy women living in my apartment. It was a bachelor's dream come true, except they were both my cousins, one of them was married (and separated, true) and the other for years had kind of hated me. Even so, there was plenty to look at in my apartment.

Katy, always, was drop-dead gorgeous. A tall blonde with fat tits and a sleek, long frame.

Amy was different from how I remembered her. Still recovering, she remained abnormally skinny. Yet, she now looked like a taller, big-assed, brunette version of Katy. I wasn't sure I liked it. She was more voluptuous, sure. Her face was more textbook beautiful with the nose job, sure. But, for whatever reason, it wasn't her, anymore. I missed the old Amy, despite being more sexually drawn to the new one.

My apartment began to smell like women Not perfume. Women. Girls. Female bodies. Pussy, my body told me. I could almost taste it in the air when I walked in. It wasn't pungent; it was faint. But, there was definitely something there.

It may have been that I was so insanely horny that my mind just imagined it. That could be. It had been over six weeks since my last visit from Misha. When I was burnt, I didn't feel like having sex. When Amy moved in, I was ready for sex that didn't happen. Once I moved to the couch, there really weren't a ton of opportunities for me to relieve myself. My body ached for sex, and I smelled pussy in my apartment.

I woke up ragingly, throbbingly hard every morning. Sometimes when I got up, I needed to piss really urgently, but I was so hard that I couldn't. When I finally softened, I'd piss for two minutes and my cock felt sore from being so hard for so long.

Since I often visited the plant late at night or in the very early morning hours, I usually didn't go into work at the start of the morning shift. I slept in for an extra hour. This meant the ladies woke up before me most mornings and quietly drank coffee and nibbled on breakfast at the kitchen table while I slept.

Our kitchen was adjacent to the living room, and from the kitchen, a person looking out the living room window, or at the television beside it, was also looking down the length of the sofa. One morning, I woke up and saw that I must have gotten hot and pushed the blanket down to my feet. I sleep on my back, often with my arms behind my head on the pillow. I was shirtless, and my cock had maneuvered through the hole in my boxers, fully exposed, flushed, and pointed at the ceiling like a fucking bed post.

Neither Amy nor Katy were in the kitchen, but they had to have seen it, both of them. Shit.

I sat up, and like the flash of lightning, I remembered it—a moment from a dream I had been having; there had been sounds. But, they hadn't been in the dream, I realized. I heard the sounds and must have incorporated them into my dream, a dream that was already slipping from my memory. There were soft whispers and giggling.

They'd seen it, alright.

The next morning, unplanned, I awoke early. I checked the time. The girls would be up and about in a few minutes. The blankets covered me, and my stiff cock was wedged inside my boxers. I drew it through the hole and pushed the blankets down.

Then, I reconsidered. Was it likely that I would be in the exact same situation two mornings in a row? Or would it seem like I was intentionally putting myself on display.

Fuck that.

I pulled the blanket up and over me, creating a teepee. Then, I reassumed my sleeping position. I closed my eyes, and then opened them to take another look. What would the girls see?

It almost made me laugh, looking at myself and trying to imagine it from the girls' perspectives in the kitchen.

The couch was pretty firm, it didn't really sink where my ass rested. So, I was fairly level, but jutting up from the middle of my blanketed form was this obnoxious pole. I didn't even look human, or if I did, it looked like someone had impaled my dead corpse with a spear.

Then, I heard a sound. Someone was getting up. I shut my eyes and relaxed, waiting.

One of them came into the kitchen. I heard soft footsteps. I heard her check the coffee-maker. Then, I heard a burst, a snort. She whispered, "Shit, Michael." It was Katy. I heard more footsteps. She went back into her room.

No, she went into Amy's room. There was whispering. Someone came back out.

"Come on." It was Katy.

More footsteps...walking in the kitchen, now.

"Look."

"Oh, my gosh. Again!"

Then, they both were laughing and hushing each other. My heart was racing. I felt the pounding. The fuzzy top of my head faced them in the kitchen, so I was safe to dart a look at my chest. I could see the little rise and fall of my heart, beating away under the blanket.

I heard cups taken out of the cupboard, and I smelled the coffee. They sat down at the table.

Amy murmured, "Wake up, have a cup of coffee, and stare at cock with my sister."

More snorts and muffled laughter.

Katy said, "It's too bad he didn't push the blanket down this time. We should turn up the heat."

"Katy!"

More laughter.

"Amy, I dare you to go over there and pull down the blanket."

More laughter.

Then, Amy whispered, "No, I dare you...wait a minute..." She got up, it sounded like. She pulled something out of a drawer. "I dare you to go over there and slip this over the tip."

Whatever it was, the girls were bursting with suppressed guffaws.

"He'd wake up," Katy said through fits, "he'd wake up and be like, 'Why the fuck is there a cookie cutter over my dick?'"

Ah. Cookie cutter. My Mom had long ago sent me a box of old kitchen supplies. There was some serious random shit in there, including a big Gingerbread Man cookie cutter.

"Does Mike bake a lot of cookies, do you think?" Amy asked.

Ongoing laughter.

"Let me see that," Katy whispered. Then, she got up.

"Katy, what are you doing? You're not really going to...Katy!"

Katy was walking towards me.

Amy urgently whispered, "Don't! He's going to know it was one of us!"

Katy said, "Watch this, Amy."

She was standing right beside me. I sensed her leaning over me. She was doing something, but I couldn't feel anything. I dared not look.

Whatever she did was fucking hilarious to both of them. It did not last long. I heard Katy's laughter move back into the kitchen.

Amy struggled through gasps of laughter to say, "Mr. Gingerbread Man, what is that on your face? Frosting?"

At this point, Katy must have spit out some of her drink, and the laughter was loud enough that both girls quickly shuffled off into the master bedroom.

The old Gingerbread Man-cookie-cutter-blowjob routine, I guess.

It was pretty funny, actually.

***

The next morning, I slept straight on through. When I awoke, I was in my usual position, and so was my cock. The blanket was down to my waist and bunched up there. If the girls had made some jokes at my expense, I missed it all.

The morning after that, I woke up in time, and this time, I gave them the full show: blanket down, cock ready. I even jerked on it a little. I could have cum in ten strokes, I was so primed.

I had to wait a long time, so every few minutes, I gave myself a tug or two.

Finally a door opened. They were already together, both of them.

What the hell? Together? Did I not hear the first one wake up?

"Oh, shit, Amy! No blanket again. Look."

"Oh, my gosh. Coffee and cock. I kind of like these mornings."

They poured their coffee and sat down.

"Is it just me, Katy, or is it bigger this morning?"

"No, it looks bigger. And...I don't know...more..."

"Throbbing?" Amy finished, and the giggling ensued.

If I hadn't been so painfully horny, I would have been laughing, too. The mirth of these women was just infectious. I loved how one would shush the other and then quickly burst into laughter, herself. It was a kind of shushing hypocrisy that made the whole thing even funnier.

"I feel bad for him, though," Katy murmured.

"Blue balls, you mean?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You don't think he's jerking off?" Amy asked.

"No! Look a that thing! It's ready to explode."

Amy sniggered.

After a brief silence, Katy muttered, "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Oh, shit, I've got an idea."

"What is it?"

"Oh, my gosh!" Katy hissed.

"Katy, tell me."

"A way to get back at Vaughn."

Silence, and then Amy said, "You're not..."

"Yes, Amy. Go over there, I'll take a picture, and we'll Snapchat it to the bastard."

"What if he's modified the app to save images?"

"He hasn't. It's Vaughn."

Amy didn't respond.

Katy said, "Okay, okay, we'll make sure you can't be recognized."

They both got up from the table.

Katy said, "Here, give it to me." Must have been Amy's phone.

I heard Amy approaching, but she stopped. "Katy, you don't want me to actually touch him do you?"

No response.

Amy hissed, "He'll wake up! No way!"

"Just get close. Lean over and...," Katy began to giggle, "...open your mouth right next to it."

Amy started laughing, too. "Oh, my gosh, you're crazy."

"Do it!"

I heard Amy walking in front of the couch. She stopped beside me.

I focused every ounce of concentration into not moving, looking asleep.

"Closer," Katy urged.

Nothing.

"Closer, Amy."

I felt her hot breath on the head of my cock, and then I sensed the flash of a camera.

There was movement. Amy walked away.

Amy said, "Let me see."

There were two bursts of laughter, and then Amy whispered, "You can see my eye. Right there. No way am I sending that."

"Okay, okay. Do it again. Stick out your tongue this time."

"Katy!" Amy walked back beside me.

I heard her bend over me. Warm air coursed down the shaft. Fuck, I wanted to look so bad.

There, the camera flashed.

Amy rose and whispered, "Katy."

I heard her bend down again. A moment elapsed, and then I felt her tongue just touch the side of the tip.

Katy said, "Oh, shit!" and both girls exploded in muffled, gasping laughter. They softly hustled out of the kitchen, and I heard them in Amy's bedroom.

I laid there, imagining some things that, for years, had seemed impossible and some other things that, until that moment, were unthinkable.

When they emerged from Amy's bedroom, Katy said, "No, don't send it now. Send it, like, Friday night at eleven. Ruin his weekend with it."

"That's a good idea."

They sat back down, and I heard their coffee cups rise and fall.

"Are you horny, Katy?"

"Oh, fuck, yes."

"Me, too."

Katy murmured, "It's like this apartment, I don't know, the whole place..."

"...smells like sex," Amy finished.

"Yes! Smells like sex, feels like sex," Katy said, "Shit, looks like sex."

They laughed again, and then there was a beat.

Katy whispered, "Remember when..."

"Yes."

Neither spoke for a moment. Then, Katy said, "Do you want to..."

"Yes."

"Me, too...when he goes?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

What the fuck did I just hear? My imagination was on fire with imagery.

I argued against it: No, that's not what they were talking about. It could not have been that. They're sisters. Then, I thought of Tamisha and Tariq. But...no.

I was going to fucking find out, though, that was for damn sure.

***

A hour later, I was driving in my car, heading to work, or so Amy and Katy probably thought. I was actually driving a big square that would take me back to the apartment.

I thought about how this would work.

Getting into the building would be a snap. There'd be no buzzer or anything in the apartment.

Opening the apartment door would be the challenge. The doors are high quality and quite soundproof. I wouldn't be able to tell what, if anything, was going on in there until I had that door open.