The Last Bridge in Pittsburgh Ch. 02

I spent the whole of Friday morning thinking about what I was sure was the strangest blowjob I'd ever had. It didn't help that I was off from my university job Fridays, and so was doing demo, alone, in the shell of the house upstairs. Plenty of time with my thoughts.

I tried hard to focus, to not dissect what had happened. Partly I was behind schedule on ripping out insulation - I needed badly to hurry if I was going to get the new insulation installed for the April heat. Mainly, though, I really didn't WANT anything to have happened. Things with Sara were going so well. If I had triggered some trauma or something even weirder was going on, that was sure to put damper on the progress I felt I'd made with the relationship. Sexually, sure, but more than that it had taken Sara nearly a year to open up to me, even the smallest bit - to talk about her past, her feelings. Last night's episode seemed like it might endanger that.

Finally, after scraping my hand on a rusty nail, I realized I needed to get my thoughts out or I was liable to kill myself out of sheer distractedness. I pulled open the notes app on my tablet and started compiling a list of possible explanations.

- Traumatic Flashback?

- Drug Reaction?

I paused. I had no idea how to compare these options. The first seemed... possible, at least. Sara was fairly conservative about sex, and really didn't like to talk about her youth or life before she came to Pittsburgh for school. Maybe she was working through something still? Or had repressed it? At the same time, that was a big leap to make. Similarly, I had no idea if Sara was on any medication at all. I frowned, and kept writing.

- Allergic to Bedspread?

- Allergic to Underwear?

- Allergic to Semen?

Frankly each of these seemed kind of zany. But, perhaps it was a promising train of thought. People were allergic to all sorts of things, each weirder than the last. I'd never heard of an allergic reaction causing the sort of space-out, or the repeating, I'd seen last night, but it did seem as if whatever had happened had happened right after I'd cum. I circled my last bullet point. I'd do a bing search later, when I wouldn't bleed all over my tablet.

--

After patching up my hand, I was able to get back to work, less distracted now that I had captured my thoughts. The afternoon, punctuated by a short lunch at the Sheetz down the road, was productive - I managed to get the old fiber insulation out of the first and second floors. I would have to do the third floor next week as the recycling people were liable to stop coming if I tried to give them all of it in one fell swoop. I was dragging bundles of the cloying pink wool out to the curb when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hi there! I see you're ahead of me!"

I turned to see Kate, my next-door neighbor. She'd been resettled to Pittsburgh a year before me and was by far my chattiest neighbor. I tried to avoid her out of fear of getting dragooned into to one of her many political causes.

"Maybe you could... come over and help me out sometime? I'm sure I could find some way to repay you" She continued.

OK, OK, the real reason I avoided her was she was constantly flirting with me. Not subtly either. Which is fine, of course, but with Kate it was always unclear if it was serious interest, or a personality quirk. If the former, I was a taken man. If the latter - well, I had no idea how to respond.

The real REAL reason, though, is that she was incredibly attractive. I didn't want to get myself into a silly situation where I made a dumb decision. Monogamy was new to me, and Sara was certainly worth putting a little risk-management in.

"I'm not doing so great - I haven't started on the electrical yet. You finished that, right?" I responded, leaning against the fence that divided our driveways.

"Reclamation people signed off last week. What happened to your hand?" She asked, suddenly turning quite businesslike.

"I scraped myself on a nail" I admitted sheepishly.

Her eyes furrowed in a scowl. "How long ago? It's not treated."

"Couple of hours" I replied.

Kate's scowl grew deeper, and she grabbed me by the wrist, inspecting the gash. "Stay here. I've got a first aid kit inside."

---

I had a surprisingly fun half hour - pain from disinfectant aside - with Kate as she bandaged my hand and told me about her childhood in New Orleans and how she wound up in Pittsburgh - she'd originally been a nurse, but after she'd had to move north, she'd been serving as an EMT.

She kept flirting with me a bit throughout the story - a wink here, a pursing of the lips there. Where that had made me uncomfortable before in passing, I found that once I was actually having a conversation with her, it was more of a bright, energetic, personality sort of thing - not cheesy one-liners like she'd been throwing at me for a while now. I departed regretting slightly that I hadn't ventured out of my comfort zone to befriend her earlier.

Now well behind schedule, I deposited the last of the old insulation on the curb before rushing back inside to start on the electrical removal. Yet an hour of puzzling over the FEMA guide book - as well as several youtube videos - had me feeling highly intimidated by the task. It seemed like there were about a thousand ways to set your house on fire. I was about to throw my hands up in despair - or worse, begin looking for contractors - when I heard the huge oak doors downstairs on the first floor creak open.

"Hello? You in here? You weren't downstairs". It was Sara!

I rushed to the landing, realizing only as I came into view that I was not exactly clean or fully dressed. Sara's eyes opened in surprise, and she buckled over laughing.

"You look some sort of flamboyant Sasquatch!"

I looked down at myself - I was indeed rather furry. I'd worked up quite a sweat in the late March air without the benefit of air conditioning, and my bare chest had become covered in loose fibers from the pink insulation which had stuck to the perspiration. Tufts covered my legs as well. God - had I been trailing this everywhere? Hopefully, I thought, not down to the corner where I'd gotten lunch. Or with Kate.

"Good lord, I had no idea. I should shower. What are you doing here? I figured you'd be packing." I asked, a little puzzled, if happy to see her. It wasn't like Sara to just drop by - she always scheduled our dates on several days notice.

"I dunno - I'm about to be out in Arizona for a week and a half, I want to get in as much time with you as I can. I know we're going out tomorrow, but I thought I'd just pop in tonight as well. I have.." She pulled a bottle of wine out of the corner of her tote. "I was thinking we could go up on the roof?"

I smiled. "That's a great idea. A wonderful reward after a full day of work. I should probably clean up first, though." I chuckled, making efforts to scrape the pink gunk off my chest.

We trundled down to the basement after I used some junk mail to scrape off the worst of the insulation fuzz in the yard. I was stripping in the door to the bathroom when Sara, who had been looking at me with a strange look from the bed, sniffed her shoulder awkwardly.

"I might need a shower too - I biked over here and it's getting a little warm for that."

"No problem - I have an extra towel in the drier. I'll be out in a minute or two" I responded.

"Actually..." she paused. The strange look was back. "I was thinking maybe I could join you? ...To save water?" She finished lamely.

My eyes went wide, joining my mouth in a grin. "Absolutely!"

--

My small basement shower had never accommodated two people before. Honestly, I wouldn't say itaccommodated us, either. It barely fit us. Yet, what should have been an awkward affair was very pleasant indeed. Upon getting in a bit after me, Sara immediately craned her neck up to kiss me, taking me a bit by surprise. Not to be a spoilsport, I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her deeply back.

After maybe five minutes of just making out in the shower we finally broke apart and she went fumbling for my soap.

"I don't think anyone's ever saved water by showering together." I laughed. "But I'm a fan nevertheless, I think."

Sara turned around and began soaping me.

"My identity as an environmentalist is at risk! Don't tell anyone, all right?" She smiled back, frothing the suds on my torso.

We spent maybe another five minutes just lathering each other up while giggling and kissing. Forget about water, we used probably a years supply of soap. I sort of couldn't help myself, though. Sara had incredible breasts whichneeded my full attention. While I'd been permitted to kiss and fondle them (to mutual enjoyment!) in several of our petting sessions in the past, there's just something different about running your hands over a great set of soapy tits. Maybe it's the differences in friction. Maybe it's the heat of the shower water. Maybe it's the fact that you're at least supposedly doing it for some reason and so you can just spend as much time copping a feel as you like, without the normal awkwardness for dragging it out. Whatever the reason, I ensured Sara's phenomenal rack was the cleanest it had ever been.

I was just considering whether to risk taking my suds southwards when Sara beat me to it, squeezing a liberal amount of soap onto the rock hard erection which had spent the last ten minutes bumping into her thighs. She kissed me again, steadying herself with a hand behind my back while the other went to work, stroking me aggressively.

I stood in the water stream for a minute or so of this, kissing her back passionately, my hands on the small of her back, before the soap around my cock got washed away by the showerhead. I reached down to her nethers, thinking to reciprocate, but she stopped me.

"I've got a better idea - how would you like another blowjob?"

"Oh!" I said, surprised. "Yeah!"

She slid down to her knees, as I positioned to block the water from the nozzle from hitting her.

"I really want to get good at this." She smiled up to me with an earnest look that somehow made me even harder.

"I'm more than happy to let you practice!" I joked.

I steadied myself on the curtain rod as her lips closed over me.

--

I was a lot faster than the night before. Sara had improved a bunch - she was getting better at keeping her motions varied, and was starting to figure out for herself when suction was warranted. Still not a world class blowjob, but an incredibly hot one - enthusiasm is everything. And when not focusing on going a little deeper or giving the head of my cock stimulation, those big brown eyes kept smiling upwards at me.

I have no idea how long she blew me for - frankly, given the foreplay, it was probably only a minute or two - but suddenly I felt my orgasm building. In a moment of clarity I found myself being very proud of, I remembered the night before, and seeking to avoid another... whatever, I touched the top of Sara's head to warn her.

"Watch out I'm about to cum - you might want to -"

She stopped sucking to interrupt me. "I don't mind you cumming in my mouth!" She paused. "If you want, anyway! I know some guys like that."

"I'm definitely one of them" I replied. I could feel my cock throb in her hand at her answer. She went back to sucking and I braced myself on the soap holder as I erupted onto her tongue.

I'm not proud to say I almost fell over. Sex in a shower is definitely not 100% safe. When I recovered, I looked down and started to thank my girlfriend when I was met, for the second time in two days, with that glassy, empty stare.

I stood over her, my cock softening ever so slightly in her loose grip, for fifteen seconds before I reached up and turned off the water. I was suddenly a little cold, standing there naked. I crouched down to where Sara was kneeling and put my arm on her shoulder. I had been sure, when she offered to blow me, that the events of last night were just some oddity. She definitely wouldn't be offering me head again if whatever had happened was a trauma thing. Frankly, even now, with her empty gaze upon me, that logic made sense. So what was going on?

"You OK?" I asked, remembering she'd responded to this question the night before.

"I'm OK"

"You enjoying yourself?" I queried again, a little awkwardly.

"I enjoyed myself" Again, flat, light monotone.

I paused. Yesterday, she had repeated something I had said to her in this state... afterwards. Actually, if I thought about it, I think she had today. Something about me cumming in her mouth? I decided to repeat it.

"You really like it when I cum in your mouth." Hm, that wasn't it exactly.

"I really like it when you cum in my mouth." Almost verbatim, with subject switched.

I thought feverishly. Either when she was in this state, she was just zonked out, or... was it possible that the things I said to her affected her behavior? Her mind? Holy shit. I tried another line along the same tack.

"You love to drink my cum."

"I love to drink your cum."

Wow, that was just hot to hear. On a more intellectual level, if she used that sentence later, I mused, that would be interesting. Then again, how would I know that she wouldn't normally say that? Did the things I say to her in this state actually affect her, or were they just little snippets that she reflexively repeated later?

In an instant, I knew of a decent test.

"Later tonight, you'll suck me off again"

"Later tonight, I'll suck you off again" Same bright, flat, voice.

My reasoning was that Sara never let us get frisky multiple times in one date. I'd tried a couple times before. She had refused each time - specifically, she'd called it "double dipping", which was cute but frustrating.

I got back on my feet from my crouch, still dripping a little. I sort of wanted to try other phrases - specifically, she hadn't responded to vague questions yesterday - but I also didn't know when or how she would snap back to reality. I was considering grabbing a watch to perhaps time her when she started blinking. A couple seconds later, Sara cocked her head - she was back.

"I really like it when you cum in my mouth!" She scrambled to her feet. "Where's your spare towel?"

---

Sara started talking about her day as we heated a couple of MREs and headed up to the roof. I was not the most interesting interlocutor while we cooked, to be honest - my mind was running at a couple thousand RPMs. I began an internal outline.

There were a couple questions I didn't have answers to, even if my little experiment bore fruit.

The first was mechanism. I felt like it was pretty clear that whatever this state that Sara was dropping into, it wasn't some trauma thing. If she'd been unpleasantly triggered yesterday, she wouldn't have enthusiastically gone for round two today. Certainly she wouldn't have dropped by unannounced. Past that, she seemed to be quite happy after both instances of... whatever it was. So the mechanism was probably either some other psychological phenomenon, or, I guess it was possible, a reaction to my semen. I had thought an allergic reaction was a longshot this morning, but me cumming certainly seemed to be the common thread here. That being said, two observations does not data make. Jury was still out on mechanism.

Second was effect. At a minimum, Sara seemed to mindlessly repeat the exact phrases I'd repeated to her when she was in the... state. But it was yet unclear if things said to her actually affected her behavior, or thought process.

Third was the moral implications of... whatever was going on. If this effect was just something that made her occasionally repeat things she'd heard post-BJ in 'normal' life, then I probably wouldn't need to sweat this. But I knew I would be disappointed if it was nothing more - and the fact I felt that way made me scared of myself. What if this was something more? To what extent was it OK to mess with the brain of another person? Especially one I loved?

I was broken from my reverie by the cool evening air as Sara opened the door to the roof.

"So: this is my first time up here - care to give me a tour?" Sara asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

"Yeah!" I replied, happy to have a conversation topic without a tinge of pseudoscience. "I've been working up here for a while but the railings are new. The tanks over here will eventually catch and filter rain..."

MREs forgotten, we wandered around the roof as I showed off my progress and explained my goals. The long-term idea was to have the house be self-sufficient for non-drinking water and to have a rooftop garden for fresh herbs and vegetables during the summer and fall. Fresh veggies had gotten expensive in the last few years, so I was hoping to either sell some if I had a momentary surplus or else find some way to preserve them for later use. The old row-houses on my block had been built with big, flat roofs for bulky heating units, but with these useless and new, less affluent folks now inhabiting the neighborhood, I could see I was not the only person on my block repurposing the space. Several of my neighbors clearly had designs towards gardens as well. Others had created makeshift patios with old umbrellas and cafe tables and big box fans. I was looking forward to the fall, when the block was supposed to be filled. Maybe we could all have a rooftop cookout.

When we eventually returned to our food and the bottle of wine Sara had brought, each was cold and warm, respectively. I tore into my food, not having realized how hungry I was. When I next took a breath, I looked over to find Sara looking a little pensive.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing really." She trailed off unconvincingly.

"Something's bothering you. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"It's..." She sighed. Oh, crap, was this about-

"It's about next week." she continued. "I don't talk about Ava much, but..."

She trailed off again. I let the silence linger for a while as I drank a little more of the Alberta red. Finally I cut in.

"I don't want to pry, but I can't help if you don't talk to me."

Sara sighed again. "It's just, it's been so long since I've seen Ava. Four years! That's a really long time to not see your sister. And we've barely talked, because she forgets you exist if you're not living in the same place..."

"Well, she was also in the Corps, and they don't always have internet. They get sent to really desolate spots. My cousin got sent rural Utah last year. No network at all."

"That's not it either, really." she replied. "We haven't really talked since Mom and Dad died. Maybe twice. And now, we've got to pack up the house. And we'll be all alone together. I don't know."

"Well" I said softly, "not alone - I'll be there at the end. So if you're having trouble with her I can act as a bit of a buffer." I paused, realizing this was not, perhaps, the problem. "You're not looking forward to being back home?"

"Arizona's not my home" she said emphatically. "This is." She reached over and gave my hand a little squeeze to emphasize this point, and my heart melted a little. "The problem is that it very much is Ava's. Mom and Dad loved her and had basically no time for me. Why do you think I went away to school first chance I got?"

"I dunno - I guess it was sort of expected in my family to go to college." I stopped, checking myself. "But she joined the Conservation Corps - isn't that the same thing? Leaving home?"

"No, she joined after Mom and Dad died." She paused again and shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, could we change the subject? This is making me sad and I'd rather not ruin such a nice evening."

"Talking about your feelings doesn't ruin anything." I said, squeezing her hand like she had just squeezed mine. The pause stretched on, so I took the hint. "That being said, I'm really not looking forward to work tomorrow. Did I tell you Gretchen's having us clean the lab again? After we just cleaned it Tuesday."