Good Things Come Ch 4

Good Things Come To An End

Chapter 4: Departure

I did my best that day; I knew it would be difficult beyond words for me, but I was determined to not make an idiot out of myself. James would be leaving early the next morning, and this would be my last day with him. No man in my life had ever affected me the way James did, and I knew it would be the hardest thing in the world for me to say goodbye.

He looked at me strangely most of the day, his glance one of confusion and amusement during the times when he would catch me studying him with a studious intensity. If I could not keep him with me, then my only other wish was to remember. I'd never been someone to need anything, and James knew that.. I could not help but wonder if he realized that I found myself needing him.

I had rehearsal for a play I was in that night, and so James decided to amuse himself by going and watching a movie with some friends he had made-a group of guys whom I'd seen, but didn't really know all that well. Before we both left each other to our own devices for that night, we kissed quickly and simply and began going in separate directions down the hall. I couldn't help it; when he was two steps away from me I turned him back to face me and crushed him in a hug. He laughed, his voice warm and dark, and kissed me on the nose. "Go, Moira. I'll see you soon."

I smiled brightly, feeling childlike. "Promise?"

Something changed in his smile, and I knew he saw beyond the childlike façade to the woman within, her vulnerabilities, her need. I blushed, and he gently brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. "Promise." With a last kiss on my forehead, he turned and walked away. I stood, watching him until he turned a corner and could no longer be seen.

I couldn't concentrate during rehearsal, and when it was over, I walked back to my dorm room with a certain lightness in my step, taking the exact path I had taken with him the first day I lead him to my room, after picking him up at the bus station. Before I entered the building, I looked up at my lighted window, curtain drawn shut. For those of you who have not experienced it, I doubt there are many things better than the first time you know you're coming home to someone you love.

I opened my door, and went in.. My face fell immediately when I realized my room was empty. James had yet to return. I looked at the clock: 11:19. We had left my room at 7:30; I was sure a movie wouldn't take that long. I loved that my friends became his friends, and that he felt at home in my life.. But it hurt that I had to share him so much on his last day with me. Struggling to contain my sadness, I grabbed shampoo, conditioner, towel, and a change of clothes, deciding to take a shower.

Stripping slowly, I allowed the water in the shower to run. Soon, steam was pouring out of my empty stall. Finally naked, I stepped in, bracing myself. The water knocked the breath out of me, as did the humidity; I was surrounded in a warm, wet world. Reaching for my liquid soap, I squirted some into my hand and began massaging it into my collarbone, chest, and breasts. The warm, spicy scent of patchouli and vanilla soon arose to my nostrils, and I closed my eyes, sighing, reveling in each of my senses.

For a moment, I leaned against the now-warm tile of the shower stall, closing my eyes, allowing the intense water pressure to beat into my skin, filling my pores, battering my body. This entire week had taken so much out of me, then put it back.. Just to take it away a final time. I spread my arms, pressing them against the wall of the shower, almost in a position of crucifixion, and turned my head so that my burning cheek was pressed against the cooler tile. I wanted the water to purify me, to wash away my pain and confusion and, yes, my desire for James. I knew that dawn would crush me because my desire was so great, and a part of me would have done anything to remove the pain I knew would come.. Even if it meant taking my desire.

Ironically, as I was thinking these thoughts, the heat and the water pressure and the spicy-sweet scent of my soap were all doing their best not to curb my desire, but to further it. I continued to massage the liquid soap into my breasts, my nipples already stiff and responsive to my touch. I pinched them softly and sighed. Moving only slightly, a hot, powerful spray of water from the showerhead concentrated on my clit. I moaned quietly, slowly dragging the palms of my hands all over my body, massaging the soft suds across my smooth, slippery skin. It was only a matter of moments until my orgasm hit me, and I did my best to keep my knees from collapsing under me. Bracing my arm against the wall, I stood under the showerhead, eyes closed, panting for breath, begging myself quietly for sanity.

It was one of the more intense orgasms I had ever experienced.

I still wanted James.

I rinsed the spicy warmth of the suds from my body, along with my wetness, and carefully washed my hair, finishing my usual shower ministrations of self-care. I gently toweled off my sensitive skin, which now had a distinct rose-quartz flush to its normally pale surface, and slipped into a pair of baggy navy shorts-I decided to forego panties- and a white, cropped T-shirt that barely covered the bottoms of my breasts. I gathered my showering supplies and, gently toweling my hair, returned to my room.

It was still empty.

I sighed deeply, fighting back tears, and began putting my shampoo and conditioner away, tossing my dirty clothes into the laundry bag, and grabbed my toothbrush, returning to the bathroom to give them a good scrubbing. When I returned.. Still no James. Dammit.

As I was putting my toothbrush away and getting ready to slip into bed, James came in, no knocking. I liked the fact he didn't knock; I wanted him to feel like this was OUR room, like he was more than a visitor to it. "Moira, where were you, hon?"

I blinked. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I thought after rehearsal you were going to stop by and catch a movie with us."

"I don't even know the guys' room number, sweetie. You didn't tell me you wanted me to crash the party.. I was about to go to bed."

He hugged me, and I could easily feel his swollen cock against his khakis. "Of COURSE I did. I missed you."

"What movies did you watch?" I stretched and curled up in bed while he stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes to the foot of the bed. Climbing over me, he got into the side of the bed nearest the wall-to protect me from any spider attacks that might happen (we had found a spider on my windowsill, and I'm deathly afraid), and because he liked being closest to the heater. I reached up, flipping off the light. He faced away from me, and I turned to watch his back, my hand laying gently on his waist.

"The Matrix.. And then the guys watched a porno."

I chuckled. "And you wanted me there for that?"

"It would have made things a hell of a lot easier on me."

"What do you mean?"

He took my hand from his waist and guided it directly to his swollen cock.

Thus began one of the most wonderful, bittersweet sexual interludes of my life. I knew he would be leaving the next day, and that this.. Would be it. This would be my last moments with him, my last chance to touch him, to please him, to show him my love for months, maybe years. Maybe I'd never see him again.

Tomorrow, I would fight back tears from the moment we awoke. Tonight, I massaged his cock gently but firmly. He rolled onto his back from his side.

Tomorrow, I would spend the every moment from the time we woke up to the time we said goodbye wanting one more tender, passionate kiss, and he would finally give me a gentle, lingering peck on the lips in parting. Tonight, he let the kiss build.. A gentle exploration, soon blossoming to an intense and intricate ballet of lips, teeth, and tongue. My hand worked up and down the shaft, not tugging, but simply caressing, massaging. The kiss finally broke, but the spell did not.

Tomorrow, I would come back from the bus station and lock my door, stripping naked and putting on the button-down dress shirt he had forgotten here, and cry uncontrollable, wailing tears until I passed out and into a gluey, blessedly dreamless sleep. Tonight, I carelessly tossed that same shirt from its place on the foot of the bed into a corner on the floor, and gently began to trace my tongue along the joints of James' thighs, fingertips lightly running along his ribcage. I traced the tip of my tongue from the very base of his shaft, up along the delicate underside of his head to the very tip, running it across and then in gentle circles, before again trailing my tongue back down along the side.

James moaned, watching me, losing his fingers in my long black hair. "Yes.. That's it.. My body is yours. Do with it what you want."

Intriguing words. A thought came to me; I slipped off of the bed for a moment. "All right." He looked at me, utterly baffled, until I returned-with a ropelike belt that belonged to a dress of mine. He smiled and sighed. "Please.. Bind my wrists." I did as he asked; loosely enough to keep from hurting him, but firmly enough to do the job.

I once again began my ministrations on his cock, licking the entirety of the shaft, teasing his head with the tip of my tongue, and swallowing it quickly without warning, creating a tight seal all around it, sucking as I slowly dragged my lips from the base back up to the head. He writhed on the bed in a way that was almost reminiscent of his first night here, when he had his nightmare; but this time, his murmurs were of lust and not of fear.

Tomorrow, James would laugh good-naturedly in the morning when he caught me with tears in my eyes and say, "I'm not going anywhere yet." Tonight, he laid stock-still save for the hard rise and fall of his chest with his labored breathing as I moved my mouth away from his cock and drug my body forward, attaching my lips to his nipple as I carefully ground my clit against the head of his cock. I leaned forward and fastened my lips to his nipple, running my tongue along it, taking it carefully between my teeth, surrounded in my own personal paradise as I listened to his moans, sucking in time on his nipple to the rhythm in which I ground my clit into the head.

Removing my lips from his nipple, I moved my face mere centimeters from his. He strained forward, longing to kiss me passionately, and I granted him a few butterfly kisses, feather-light and fleeting. I whispered as my eyes smiled mischievously into his. "What do you want? Tell me, it's yours."

He panted, completely surrendered. It was the only time in the ages I had known him that he had ever given up control of himself. "I want to shove you down and fuck your brains out, how does that sound?"

I chuckled. "I didn't ask what you wanted to DO. Your job is to sit back and enjoy. I asked what you WANTED."

He slumped more into the bed, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I've always wanted to see a woman masturbate."

THIS was something I hadn't expected. "You've never seen a woman masturbate?"

"Oh, I've seen it, but they never did it for very long.. Too shy. I want to see a woman cum by herself."

I blinked. You know how most women are; they rarely admit to masturbating, and the idea of doing it in FRONT of someone? Practically unthinkable.. Which was probably one of the reasons why James, with all of his expertise, had not run into many volunteers.

There was a long pause; I was beyond shy. But finally, a decision came.. Screw it. Or rather, screw myself.

Tomorrow, I would bring myself to orgasm thinking of him while my face was still wet with tears; tonight, I spread my labia and caressed my clit while my face was flushed with lust. I had always been so innocent, so pure, and here I was-performing for him. Showing off. Letting him see places inside of me, emotionally and physically, I had never shown another person. I slid a finger into my pussy while my thumb continued to caress my clit, closing my eyes and tossing my head back, feeling the whisper of my long skeins of black hair caressing the small of my back. I felt alive. I felt beautiful. I felt like the prophet Jeremiah, with fire shut up in my bones..

Until release.

To this day I'm not sure if it was an orgasm or an out-of-body experience; to be honest, I don't really care. I buckled forward on him, beads of sweat from my forehead finding their home on his body, trickling through the ravines of his well-chisled abdomen. In the silence, the sound of our panting breath was deafening, and we breathed as one.

Eventually our breathing slowed, and James reached up to caress my damp cheek with a cool hand. "God, you're beautiful."

I blushed, and somehow finding a new wellspring of courage, I looked in his eyes. I felt like a child, but I gazed upon his face with eyes black and bright for a long moment before finally stating my acquiescence. "You've been good, James," I yearned forward, nimble fingers untying his wrists. "And because of it, I will do whatever you wish."

My lashes longed to lower demurely, to show some typical sign of female submission, but I refused to let them. I was sheltered, I was a virgin, I knew all the things I had allowed myself to be opened to and I wanted him to see that knowledge in my eyes. And he looked at me for what seemed like an eternity before finally reaching up to me and tug on a renegade lock of hair.

"I want to cum in your mouth."

I blinked a few times and allowed the simple sentence to register. James and I had talked about it many times, late at night; I told him I had never found a man that I trusted enough to allow to cum in my mouth. He thought that was one of the strangest things he'd ever heard; he'd talked to women who loved or hated the taste, but I was the first one he had come across who found it to be a matter of trust. But it had always seemed a massively intimate act to me-- even more so than sex-- that I had never allowed the few men I had gone down on that particular privilege.

In this case, I nodded, a faint smile kissing my lips. "All right."

Wordlessly he moved me like a rag doll, changing places with me so that now I was lying on my back and he was straddling me. I expected him to want a blowjob, but instead he merely began to stroke his cock inches away from my face. I watched in fascination, staring at the rhythmic motion of his hand slowly increasing, the slick sliding noise lulling me deep into thought. He wasn't after oral pleasure.. He understood finally what I thought of accepting a man's ejaculate to nourish my body. He wanted to share a blasphemous, sacred, sexual communion. I was overjoyed.

It didn't take him long; the past few hours had been too much for him, and soon his hand was a blur on his lovely shaft. Ropes of cum poured from his cock to spill onto my lips and down my throat. A sample of the land of milk and honey.

Finally, I was satiated. He kissed me serenely, whispered something in my ear, and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tomorrow, I would tell him I loved him.. And he would look at me strangely, as if he had never seen me before, and chuckle before walking onto his bus without a word in return. But tonight.. Tonight I was beautiful. James had told me so.

When I think back on that night, years and years ago, I am still beautiful. I am forever in that bus station, silently awaiting his reply that has yet to come.

They say good things come to those who wait... And so I wait.

Alone.

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Author's note: I realize the first three sections of this story were posted over a year ago. To this day I get E-mails asking for a proper conclusion to the story of James and Moira; I was reluctant to write it, because I knew it would not have a happy ending. I do hope, however, that those who read it are satisfied. Thank you for your patience.