The Humper Game Pt. 04 Ch. 01

"They obviously think there's something morally wrong with what we were doing, and with the things we told them about from school, but nonetheless, it all reminded her and probably both of them of when they were first married, only a little older than we are. And I'm sure that's what she meant, it really is something she's glad of."

Ellen was quiet for a minute or two. Then she said, "If you're really not willing to do anal sex, it will be Sunday sometime before I get a chance to see whether I can still keep it down. And to enjoy you like that. But can we get this stuff cleaned up and get to bed, now?"

"Didn't you want to talk to your brother about the drawing?" It was plain that she had forgotten. "OK, you talk to him and send him the picture, and I'll clean up."

So I listened to her end of the conversation and cleared the table and washed dishes. She chatted with him a little before bringing up the drawing she wanted him to see, that one friend had given another friend. She sent him the picture, and things got quiet for a minute or two. She said, "Sure, I'll wait," and I guessed that he wanted to see it full size as well. It was a few minutes before she started listening again as if someone was actually talking. "That's the friend she gave it to. The girl is another friend of ours. And it's a picture of part of a game we played in gym class, but she made it be, well, a metaphor for things that were happening in their relationship right then. The actual scene was weeks earlier."

The sounds of my dishwashing must eventually have penetrated from his ears to his brain, it seemed, because a few moments later she said, "The friend I mentioned, the one Sam gave that drawing to, just moved in upstairs today, and we ate in my apartment. He's been doing the dishes and cleaning up while I've been talking to you." She listened a moment more, and then said, "Sure, but I'll just put you on speaker. His name is Phil."

She fiddled with the phone for a moment, and said, "OK, Phil, Steve wants to talk to you. Steve, you're on.

"Phil, I guess I have a couple of things. First off, take care of that drawing, the original. It's really, really good, and there's a good chance you could get good money for it now, but don't. Even if you need money. If the artist goes on that way, she'll make a name and it will be worth a lot more in a few years. I mean, this is a high school senior who did this? It may be that the subject matter had enough meaning to help her do extra well, but it's not just technique, she has to understand what she was doing."

"I was going to see if I could get some good photocopies made, on heavy paper, maybe card stock, and then have it framed. Copies for Ellen and the girl in the drawing, and for Sam, she's the artist, and she didn't think to make a copy for herself. And one for her family as well."

"That's all good. That's pen and India ink, it looks like, so a good black-and-white copier may be good enough for frameable copies. But if you possibly can, don't let it out of your sight, so you can see that they handle it carefully."

Ellen said, "Steve, when he found it in his suitcase, he came and got me to take that picture, because he was crying and was afraid he'd drip on it. It makes me want to cry, too, but I managed because it wasn't my relationship. Even if I care a lot about both of them."

"Good. Clean hands, maybe disposable gloves even, and try to hold it by the edges.

"Anyway, the other thing is this. Excuse me if I'm reading this wrong, but Ellen's my favorite little sister, and you're there in her apartment eating with her. Treat her right, OK?"

I opened my mouth, but I didn't manage one word, because Ellen jumped in, and she sounded really mad. "Steve! He's my friend, one of my very few very best ones. Don't you dare try to scare him off! I can tell you that he always tries to treat everyone right! I've seen him! But if you mean that he's supposed to keep his hands away from me or something like that, you can just keep your nose in your own business! I may just wind up getting married to him eventually, but it won't be soon if it happens. There are a couple of other possibilities in view for him, and I know all about them, they're my best friends ever. But Phil cares more about me than you do, I can tell you that!

"And hearing me say I may marry him won't scare him off, or make him think I'm maneuvering him into it, either. The subject has even come up, and we both want to wait and see, but it's our business, not yours. I called you for artistic consultation, not relationship counseling."

"All right, Ellen, calm down. If that's really where things stand, that's what I needed to know. I've just known plenty of guys who are happy to let a woman think they love her, and to fall in love herself, when all they want is a good screw."

She was speaking more calmly now. "I had opportunity to see plenty of those this year, myself, Steve. And I've seen Phil. And first off, he's always, without exception, caring and considerate, out to make things good for other people before he thinks about himself. And I don't mean just sex, or just women. I assure you that if we do wind up married, you'll agree that he's a good choice—unless you offend him so badly that he won't give you the time of day.

"And in fact, I personally know of a case where he unintentionally offended someone, our freshman year. He was only a little to blame. He was teasing her a little, but it sounded like he was insulting her about something big, something he didn't actually know anything about. And she wouldn't listen to anything he said about it, but he kept trying. She would talk to him very politely when necessary, for example when they were assigned to work on a project together for a class, but she wouldn't say one word that didn't relate to that project. And he kept trying, when any reasonable person would have given up or jumped all over her and convinced her she was right.

"And by the way a mutual friend—in fact, the girl in that drawing—finally went to her on her own and screamed at her about how unfair she was being, until she got through. I assure you, you could hear the screaming, from both of them, all over the girls' wing. She finally apologized for not listening for three solid years, and he apologized for the stupid joke he had thought he was making and assured her again that he hadn't known about the other matter, and they reconciled. He really does care that much about other people. He'll persist in trying to do what's right in the face of the worst treatment you can imagine.

"And if we do get married, that's why I'll do it. The affection and sex are wonderful, but his character is what's important."

"All right, Ellen, you're right, I shouldn't have said that. I hope I'll get to see."

She laughed. "And I hope you're not in earshot of Mother or Father, or anyone who might tell them what I've just said. They have their hearts set on me marrying some nice Chinese man. If I ever marry Phil, they'll just have to get used to it, but please, let's wait until we have stuff settled a little, and it's a little more definite. When and if I bring Phil to meet them, not before."

He laughed too. "You are so right! You're kind of their big hope, any more, little sister."

They exchanged affectionate goodbyes and disconnected.

I said, "Um. Wow. Remind me never to get you mad at me."

"Steve sometimes doesn't get it unless you beat on him about things. He really is smart, he's an outstanding artist, and doing very well at it too, but sometimes he's stupid about people.

"I haven't told you about him, have I? He's twenty-six, and it's just the two of us, so seven years is quite a gap. He's a commercial artist, and really successful, but he really wants to do more, um, the kind of things people think of when they hear the word 'artist.' That's a little hard on him. And he's good enough, technically, in my judgment. But I think maybe where he falls down is what I was just saying. The painters who get their works auctioned off for millions at Christie's or somewhere, some of them are just clever enough to fool people, it's all cheap tricks and smoke and mirrors, but the good ones have to be able to see people deeper than the surface, and he just doesn't."

"My grandfather was a commercial artist. I'm afraid I always took him for granted—professionally, I mean—but Sam's uncle looked him up on line, and I gather he was actually important in a minor sort of way."

"Really? Let me call Steve back. Hey, Steve. I was telling Phil a little about you—no, you hadn't come up ever until this afternoon. He says his grandfather, who kind of half raised him and died—when, Phil?—about four and a half years ago, was a commercial artist. He cared more about other things, and those are the things Phil saw, growing up, but when Phil was visiting Sam—yes, that Sam—this week, her uncle looked him up on line and found some stuff. Just in case you're interested, his name was Morris, um, Phil, what was his full name?" I told her, but she didn't even need to pass it on, it seemed. "Um. Just a sec." And she had him on speaker again.

He had heard of my grandfather, it seemed. He admired his work, and even had two or three prints of things he had done.

I told him Granddad had had a few examples of his work on his walls, but not many at all. "You understand, this was not his real passion in life. It was something he enjoyed, or he never would have gotten into it most likely, and he thought it part of his duty and calling to do it as well as he could, superlatively well, and to work to learn to do it better. But his pride in it was to look at it, perhaps, and see how well he had done something hard, and he could get just as much pleasure from seeing the same thing in another man's work. It was, see how well this is done, not, see how well I did this."

"So what was his real passion, then?"

"I guess I didn't say. He was a Christian and a Bible scholar. His true love in life was to know and understand, and teach, the Bible, and to put what he found in it into practice. That's why he found it so important to do his work well, even if it didn't pay much or wasn't something he was interested in personally. I mean, he never would have accepted a commission he thought was objectionable morally, but some things he thought more worth drawing, illustrating, publicizing or whatever, than others. But in his view, he was working for God, not for whoever was paying him. If someone wanted something he thought was, um, frivolous, he could still do his best on it, because he was serving God by using his talents for the benefit of others.

"I've met a few pastors and teachers with seminary degrees who didn't know the Bible anywhere near as well as he did. If I were a Christian myself, I'd have to say I think for many of them, that was because they didn't know God the way he did. I'm—um, still trying to figure out what I think on that, though."

Steve didn't say anything for a bit. Then he said, "I never would have known that."

I said, "Sam's uncle found some things that would have given you a hint." I gave him enough to look for them with.

We all said goodbye again, and they disconnected.

Ellen said, "I knew the little you'd told me about your grandparents, but not that. Um. I think what you said may have reminded Steve of our own grandparents, who were probably very different in most ways. Old-style Chinese. But I'm really glad you told that. I want to look up some of his artwork now." So we took a while doing that.

"Remember," I said, "I really didn't know anything about his artwork. That wasn't what was important to him to talk about with me.

"But I had a question for you, too. Steve said you're your parents' last hope, for a suitable marriage or grandchildren or something—I wasn't sure exactly what. But if I'm right about what he meant, well twenty-six isn't all that old. Or is he gay? Or what? I'm sorry, I don't want to pry, so if it's a big secret just say so."

"You're right, I should have explained. I didn't think of it, partly because nobody really told me, either. Remember, I'm seven years younger, and a girl besides. But somewhere in his late teens, Steve had some kind of problem, with his testicles if I've got it right. At a guess, cancer. I think it was treated successfully, but there was enough damage that he's sterile, I think. Or maybe just sperm count too low for children to be likely.

"And I'm still kind of theorizing here. Either it ramped down his sexual desire, or it made the sperm abnormal so that he's afraid to try for children, or maybe he's just really self-conscious about it. Or something else. But he's made it clear to me that he's not going to get married or have that kind of relationship, and since my parents' response was sadness rather than anger I'm sure it's not anything they could blame him for.

"But that does put pressure on me. To the extent that if you're dead set against children, or even lukewarm, you need to make it clear, and I need to push you hard at Sam or Jenny. But I know what I saw, and I'm really not worried about that. And I want children, and not just to please my parents, either—as long as they're yours!"

We started to get ready for bed. I didn't have anything in her apartment, and I said I'd go upstairs to get things.

"You can share my toothbrush for tonight," she said. "And you don't need pajamas—even though this time you wouldn't be needing to take them off. Just sleep in your briefs.

"But remember, I have a regular running partner now, and I'm supposed to meet her at six tomorrow. You probably should come along. It's a running track in a gym, and you won't be running with us, even if you take the inside lane, but you may find a partner, too. Oh, and she doesn't run on Sundays, so I haven't been, either."

"Well, you'll have to wait while I go upstairs and get into something suitable in the morning, then."

"That will be fine. I'll set the alarm a little earlier, to allow for that. We'll have to go over there—it's not too far, but figure ten minutes for that. Breakfast after running OK?"

"Shower before breakfast?"

She hesitated. "We'll need to settle whether that's together or apart in the morning," she said. "But yes, that's still the way I've been doing it. If it's together, my pussy is still off limits? OK?"

"That will be fine with me. I've missed showering with you, and I don't mean it wasn't wonderful with Sam. The sex is just the icing on the cake."

She let out her breath and relaxed, visibly. Then she tensed again. "Phil, I've been telling her my boyfriend would be coming along someday, her and other people. You're really sure that's OK?"

"I told you, that's exactly what you should have been saying. At Sam's, when people asked, I felt I had to say a little something, but for, um, acquaintances here, as long as you're willing, that's what we say. If Sam or Jenny comes to visit, we just say she's a friend of ours. And what happens when they're not around is none of their business."

She relaxed again. "Oh, Phil, thank you. I love you, and you're so good to me."

We used the bathroom and brushed our teeth. Ellen was a little more modest than Sam by nature, and we took turns waiting while the other to used the toilet. I was very sure that she wouldn't be dismayed either at watching or at being watched—if it happened for some reason—but I was happy with this situation.

I stripped to my briefs, and Ellen to her panties, but then she put on a nightgown. She looked at me and said, "You don't mind, do you? For the next two nights, anyway?"

"Not at all. I'm afraid I'm going to feel you through it, and my hands might even wander under it occasionally. You don't mind that, do you?"

"Phil, with you, anything. If you change your mind about just sleeping, or you just want it off, say so."

After the light was out, the room was still not very dark. I said, "I haven't had a chance to actually be in my bedroom after dark. If it's this light, I'm going to have to do something about it. I'll look at things in here in the morning, unless you like it this light."

She kissed me and said, "Darker would be better. Thank you for offering."

We kissed and hugged for just a couple of minutes, and then she rolled over, snuggling back against me. I knew she could feel my erection against her ass, and my hands cupped her breasts. She went to sleep sooner than I did, but in spite of arousal I dropped off fairly quickly.

In the middle of the night sometime, I got up for the bathroom. Just finding my way, though the room wasn't that dark, I made enough noise to awaken Ellen. I said, "I don't need you to stay awake, here." When I got back, she wasn't asleep, and she got up and went into the bathroom herself.

When she came back, she faced me again, and kissed me. She said, "Phil, I know you don't want to, you don't feel it's fair to me, but please let me satisfy you. I really want to. Really. But, 'with you, anything.' If you say no, I'll try to go to sleep again. I just want you to hear, loud and clear, that I've missed you, I let a chance to be with you slip by a week ago because I was being afraid, and I'm starved for real contact with you."

I was ashamed to say no again. "Ellen, if I say yes, the pleasure's all for me. We're not going to take the time now for me to go in your ass, that's flat. If it's really something you want, not that you think I'm asking or wishing you'd do, go ahead."

"Kiss me a little longer first. It won't make you less ready, and I need that from you too, right now."

So we did kiss, and she was very aroused. I touched her breasts. "Is that all right?" I asked her. "Or will that leave you too frustrated?"

"Oh, keep on!" she told me. So I stroked her breasts, first through her nightgown, then under it, my arms pulling it up. She kissed me hard, then harder, then came, quite a bit more loudly than she usually did.

"Oh, Phil, I saw that happen with Ellen, and I just didn't believe it, and now you did it for me! Oh, you're wonderful! Thank you!"

She kissed me a bit more, and then moved down me and pulled my briefs down. She licked and teased a little. "Phil, do you want this fast, so you can get back to sleep, or slow, so you can enjoy it longer?"

"I'm sorry, Ellen. Fast and back to sleep. Please."

She set right in, taking me way in and then back out, sucking on the head and circling it with her tongue. She kept that up, taking it in and out only a little, and then, as I started to get close, taking me all the way in, down into her throat, bobbing up and down with me down there. She made some noises that might have been choking, but didn't seem to be, and very soon I came. She came back up from me, and used tissues to clean me off, also around her mouth. She rinsed out her mouth with water, then lay down again and embraced me.

"Thank you. Even if I hadn't come, that would have helped me. Now, go back to sleep."

She was asleep in less than a minute, and it didn't take me long either.

Revision: 6/26/2019