The Humper Game Pt. 04 Ch. 01

Author's note:

This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very, very long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.

No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with the beginning of Part 1 and read sequentially—giving up at any point you choose, of course.

All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.

This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.

Part 4. "Oh joy! when two glowing young hearts, From the rise of the curtain, Thus throw themselves into their parts, Success is most certain!"

                BALLAD—JULIA.

How would I play this part—
                The Grand Duke's Bride?
All rancour in my heart
                I'd duly hide—
        I'd drive it from my recollection
        And 'whelm you with a mock affection,
        Well calculated to defy detection—
That's how I'd play this part—
                The Grand Duke's Bride.

With many a winsome smile
                I'd witch and woo;
With gay and girlish guile
                I'd frenzy you—
        I'd madden you with my caressing,
        Like turtle, her first love confessing—
        That it was "mock", no mortal would be guessing,
With so much winsome wile
                I'd witch and woo!

Did any other maid
                With you succeed,
I'd pinch the forward jade—
                I would indeed!
        With jealous frenzy agitated
        (Which would, of course, be simulated),
        I'd make her wish she'd never been created—
Did any other maid
                With you succeed!

        — W. S. Gilbert, The Grand Duke; or, The Statutory Duel

As soon as I had gotten my stuff somewhat settled, I went down to Ellen's apartment. She was out, so I went back up again and called her, and left voicemail when it went straight to that.

I grabbed a bite for an early lunch. Then I called Jenny. Sam was right, I'd let that go too long. I had touched bases with her precisely twice during the past two weeks.

We had a long talk. She was moved in, and was doing some research, but she admitted that it was more for her own interest than for anything practical in any way. Her school had started classes in the middle of the week, but her only two Friday classes were both canceled, and of course Monday classes also. She didn't think it was a good omen that the first meeting of classes was canceled just because the second one would be.

She at least professed to be understanding about my not having called more often. "You were getting your apartment set up, figuring out what you needed to get and hadn't thought of, two meetings with your advisor plus travel time, Ellen's big delay last week and then having her there for the night. Plus Ellen's issues. And your last chance to spend time with Sam, and I don't mean just screwing. Yes, Ellen and I have been talking, and Sam called me a couple of times too.

"I'm really sorry that now that you're there with Ellen and a couple of days available to you, she's in her period." Jenny's schedule for that was of course the same as Ellen's. I figured that somewhere along the line different girls from our class would get out of sync—even before whatever time any of them started trying for pregnancy—but it was early for that yet. "Sam told me she switched her pills for this week with the ones for next week, and I'm really glad for that. I might not have thought of it, in her place."

"Ellen's period may be moot. On Monday she said she'd made up her mind, but I'm not sure it's really settled."

Jenny was quiet for a little while. Then she said, "I know you'll give her as much time as she needs. Whether that's fair to you or not. But I think you'll find Ellen knows her mind that well, and she wouldn't have said that if she weren't sure she had thought it all out completely. She's way better for you than I am."

Another pause, not so long. "When will you know your parents' schedule for being home? I'm thinking of Christmas and spring break, really. Where I am, here, looks a lot closer to DC than it really is, I know, but at least it's not across the country or even halfway. If they're home, maybe I can visit you, if not it's probably too far for you to visit me here."

"My folks' schedule can suddenly change without warning. But, well, if you went home to your parents' at either one, maybe I could visit you there. Or Ellen and I could. It's still a long way, admittedly." Jenny's parents were in the Midwest, far from all of us. Mine were at least on the same side of the country as Jenny's school—and as Sam's. I hadn't done any research, but I kind of thought a trip in two legs was apt to cost a lot more than the same trip nonstop—but still a lot less than a round trip that far.

As I was talking, and listening, I had been unpacking suitcases and boxes, things that I hadn't considered urgent when I brought stuff in. And in the bottom of one suitcase was something I hadn't packed. It was a portrait, an ink sketch on heavy paper, of me, running. The background was a little vague, suggested rather than shown, but I easily recognized the scenery as the school's running course. It was also full of sketchily-defined human figures, running. The most clearly defined one was a bit ahead of me, and female. It sure looked to me like it was Jenny, but mine was the only really sharply-defined figure in the drawing. An action photo, with fast shutter but a wide aperture for a shallow depth of field, might have given a somewhat similar effect. The sense of all the runners being in headlong motion was extremely strong.

I made some kind of interjection, interrupting whatever Jenny had been starting to say. She said, sharply, "Phil? What's wrong?"

I was just about in tears, and I was afraid the ink would run, so I quickly put the drawing down and took a step back. I got my breath back after a moment.

"I'm sorry, Jenny. I was unpacking a suitcase and I found something in it." I was having trouble going on, but Jenny must have been able to tell that, because she waited for me without saying a word. "It's a drawing, of—of me, running at school, in the game. The background is kind of impressionistic, but anyone could recognize it, and so are the other runners. Except for the one right in front of me, and that's almost clear. And I think it's you." I just sat down, tears running down my face. I said, "I'm sorry. Hang on, please." It took me a couple of minutes to get to where I could talk, and I could tell Jenny was still there, but she just waited. "It was in a manila folder, and she put something flat on top of it, to keep my clothes from wrinkling it. I'm going to have to find someone who can frame it. And it's, well, it's good enough that it may be worth a lot of money some day, if she works at things hard enough to make a name for herself. She signed it, well, a little logo with her initials and the date. About the time you quarreled with me—I don't remember that exactly when that was, not down to the day."

Jenny asked me to take a picture with my phone and send it to her. I told her to wait, I'd do it, but I was crying enough I was afraid the ink would get wet and run. I tried to get control of myself, and said, "I'm sorry, you were saying something and I interrupted you."

"A lot less important than what you interrupted me for, but here's what it was. Tell me about Sam's aunt and uncle. I know they're Christians, serious ones, but Sam said you two were sharing a room? She didn't say much more than that. We talked about me more than about anything else."

"And she didn't pass any of that along to me. OK, here's the five-minute version, but it's not going to do the whole situation any justice."

I told her about our conversation the first night, on our arrival.

"I'm glad you shot her down like that, right away. You know, a fight like that with them would have had her down in the dumps the whole time, unless it was resolved. Even from here, I know she would recognize what you said as right."

"She did indeed. I think she had been determined that we were going to be together, and thinking so much about how this would involve confrontation that she worked herself up. But I didn't even remember to say 'Basingstoke' at the critical point, and she still got it. Both sides backed down right away. Uncle John said that it was useless to act like we had to pretend we weren't already, um, intimate, with their consent every year to its happening last year—consent to her having sex with guys, I mean—and Sam immediately went contrite, not just about the immediate situation but about her treatment of them, her attitude toward them, ever since they took her in.

"I think that really made them think, kind of shocked them. They apologized several times through the week, mostly Aunt Sally, for having trouble responding to Sam as she is now rather than the old Samantha they'd had so much trouble with—but honestly, I never saw that those apologies were necessary. They treated her as if she really were an adult child of their household, whom they loved deeply—which they did, for sure, anyway. But one of them, Uncle John I think, told me that he never would have believed that he'd see Sam crying because she had treated someone badly, and begging for forgiveness."

"OK, I get most of that. Except, 'Uncle John' and 'Aunt Sally?'"

I explained at some length. "Remember, I'm really a stranger to my own aunts and uncles—I've met them all, maybe, but no more—but anyway, by the end it felt more like I was their adopted son than nephew. Except, well, Sam pointed it out. If I offered to help, Aunt Sally gladly let me do so, but sometimes, not always, she wouldn't ask for help from me. As if I were a guest, not a family member. Though I guess maybe a nephew she didn't know all that well might get the same treatment.

"And Uncle John reminds me so much of my grandfather, I think that was part of it for him, too, somehow. I told him about my grandparents, and he could see that."

I warned her that we had spent a couple of days telling them things about school, things the school would rather we didn't discuss with anyone. "And that's pretty unrealistic. Lots of the kids—excuse me, young men and women—will tell their families in detail about sex ed and the gym game. The parents all knew sex ed would be completely hands on, and of course they'll press for details. But at any rate, we tried to explain about how you and Ellen fit in with us. I'm afraid I even went into detail about your quarrel with me, way too much.

"I don't remember all of how that came into it, except that I thought they needed to understand how Ellen came into it all. And, ultimately, well, there I was sleeping with Sam. I couldn't—we couldn't—let them think this meant a wedding was in sight, the two of us. Sam's utterly convinced that what Ellen saw is true, by the way.

"What really boggles my mind about that is that they urged me to come back to visit, Thanksgiving being mentioned in particular—OK, that's not the surprising part—and to bring Ellen along. I'm almost afraid to tell her. She just might get the willies about the whole thing, all over again. But I need to tell her, pretty soon, afraid or not. They did like her for herself, what they could see in one evening and heading out the next morning. But they also told me, last thing before we left the airport, that they want to meet you, too.

"Although, now I think about it, Aunt Sally said something to Ellen about Thanksgiving, just before she left. I'm pretty sure they're assuming that we would be sleeping together the way Sam and I did, and maybe Ellen didn't catch that. So maybe it won't be a shock.

"Anyway, they're not scoping out the competition for Sam or anything like that. They liked Ellen, and I think they're sure they'd like you, and you're both an important part of Sam's background, best friends of hers as well as mine.

"I do wonder what we'll do if we're all there at once, and how they'll respond. It didn't come up with Ellen that time—she was still feeling skittish about me. Sam suggested she sleep with me and she insisted on sleeping by herself.

"And I need to hang up and go see if she's come back from wherever she was. I should have pushed a note under her door or something."

"Phil, I should let you go on several grounds. But check your messages as soon as you hang up."

Sure enough, I had three texts from Ellen, asking where I was. I went down to her apartment again. This time, she was there.

"Sorry, I was on the phone."

"I assume Sam's in transit. Jenny?"

"Right. Sam reminded me that I owed her some contact, and we got to talking. Phone charges are going to eat me alive."

Ellen came into my arms. "Phil, I'm sorry I took so long to figure out where I need to be. Now it's a couple of days before we can have sex. Unless you want oral or anal, and I'm fine with that if you want. I'm so happy to have you here with me I'd do worse than either of those. You even proved that anal can be good for me, and I've got lube and gloves in case. And I meant what I said the other day. I am through saying no to you about sex, forever I hope."

I kissed her. "I won't quite say a definite no, but I'd rather wait. But I want to be with you. Much as I want sex with you, that's very much second on the list. Can I stay with you tonight? Please? I'd say, no sex, except it's really, anything it takes to make it work, for you."

"Phil, I love you. My big worry is, um, remember that one time with Jenny that you told us about? I'm not too confident of my will power, not with you there by me all night. Yes, I want to, but I'm worried. But with you, anything. Anything at all."

We kissed briefly, then sat down to talk. But immediately she said, "Phil, what's wrong? You've been crying, and you're still not yourself. I'm sorry I didn't see it the instant you walked in. I can't imagine how I missed it! What's wrong?"

"It's not wrong, not at all, but it carried a big emotional impact. You need to come up and look at it. I need to take a picture of it and send it to Jenny, and I was afraid I'd drip tears on it and the ink would run, but maybe you could do that for me."

She got up and pulled me toward the door. "You're not yourself. You're not making enough sense, and you're never like that. But obviously I need to see whatever it is."

We went down the hall and started up the stairs. I said, "I found it while I was unpacking. Sam put it in for me. I need to figure out whether she's down yet, and call her if it might be a good time." I was heading toward crying again, just thinking about it. I unlocked my door, and we went in, and I just pointed at the drawing.

She picked it up, and looked at it for a minute or two—which people think is a short time, but try it in the middle of a conversation sometime and see! She put it down without saying anything, and came over and hugged me. "You just cry as much as you want. It's beautiful, and it's you. She loves you so much. And Jenny, too, you can see that." So I cried on her shoulder for a few minutes, and when I ran down, she said, "Give me your phone." She took a picture, and handed the phone back to me.

As I was sending it, she said, "You realize, this is the kind of thing that should be in an art museum. Or a gallery. It ought to be part of her portfolio, for her professors and later for people who might hire her. You've got to get it framed, to protect it."

"I said that much, about framing it, to Jenny. Who does that kind of thing?"

"People who sell art supplies, for one thing. Start with them, anyway. Or google framing, in this area. I guess it will have to be tomorrow, but most of them should be open Saturdays. Probably even on a three-day weekend. Do you have anything you can put it in now, to keep it safe?"

I pulled out a folder made to hold a legal pad, and in fact holding one—the very item Sam had put on top of the drawing in my suitcase, to protect it. Ellen put the drawing in, inside the folder Sam had used. She carefully made sure the edges didn't stick out.

"I'm going to have to try to call Sam now. I don't know whether she'll be available. Can you please stay here? She'd skin me alive if I called her and you'd been here and I didn't let her say hello to you."

And my phone rang, and it was Sam. I put it on speaker. "Sam, I was just going to call you. I—"

"Whatever it is, it can wait. Phil, I just found the earrings. They're perfect. I love them! And I love you so much! Oh, thank you!"

Ellen laughed. "Sam, I'm here too. And I really think you need to listen to what Phil wanted to say to you."

I said, "I was afraid of catching you when you weren't free to talk. I was unpacking while I talked to Jenny, and I found your drawing. Jenny wanted me to send her a picture, and I had to go get Ellen to take it. I was afraid I'd drip tears on it and spoil it. And I'm going to be crying too hard to talk, again. But that drawing is worth way more than any jewelry in the world." And I collapsed onto the bed, sitting there and crying again.

Ellen took the phone out of my hand. "Sam, I haven't seen these earrings, but I think I'm with Phil. You should have kept this, for your portfolio in the short run, but someday it will be worth a lot of money. If you can do something like this, now, you're going to be famous enough someday for this to sell for millions."

"Do you still have the picture? Can you send it to me? I didn't even think about keeping a copy. I was just concerned to keep it hidden from Phil until today, but still grab a chance to put it in there. I had to wait until he took a load of stuff down and then move really fast."

"I'll do that, except that I'm sending myself a copy first. But we'll need to get something better than a hand-held phone can do, and I'll have to send those out. I'll find out tomorrow where we can get a copies made, good ones, before we have it framed." She busied herself with my phone, for a few moments, and then said, "There. My copy and yours both went out.