Last Night 12

You know who you are. I’m so sorry. I love you. -C

Last night was the best of my life. You pulled me out of misery with so few words, doing for me what days of moping could not.

I lay just below the surface of the water, the warm fluid brushing against my eyelashes as I choked back tears. Depression had set in so long ago I couldn’t remember what it was like to be happy, as stupid and childish as that seems even now. The only sound, muffled in my water-filled ears, was the fan humming away above me, so I didn’t hear you when you slipped into the bathroom.

You must have taken off your shirt while I was under the water, tossing it aside and lowering yourself to the side of the tub. A disturbance in the surface of the water, causing me to gasp and open my eyes, was the first time I’d seen you all day.

My head flew out of the water. I wasn’t expecting you. You smiled at me, unhappily, no cheer inside you. I’m so sorry for the days of misery I put you through during my depression; I loved you even while I told you otherwise.

“What’s up?” you said, putting your hand in the warm bathwater. I sank back below, unable to find any words to speak to you. Not just you; to anyone. Your hand moved next to me in the water, brushing up against my flesh. No tingles rose in my body, no goose bumps of excitement, and no pleasure at your touch. I didn’t feel anything but my sorrow. “If the tub wasn’t so small I’d get in with you.”

My face went under the water, fluid filling my ears once more. I saw your mouth move above me, but only muffled nonsense came to me below the surface. I was floating alone in my own world, apart from you though you were so nearby. Frowning, you stood up.

I closed my eyes again, expecting you to leave. My misery isn’t yours; you don’t have to take it. You have the power to turn and walk away, to leave me unhappy. You’ve done so before, but not this time. The next thing I knew you were climbing into the tiny tub, your big body straddling mine, squishing me between your legs.

Sputtering, I rose from underneath, coughing up the water I’d choked down upon your entrance. Putting your bare arms in the tub beside my head, you lowered your stomach and chest onto mine, pushing me into the water.

Your skin felt so good, your body so warm and slick. I could hear my own breaths echo in the crook of your neck, and buried my face there, relaxing against you, squished as I was. I have never loved you more than at that moment, never as much as feeling your strength against you, the reality of your body against mine. Your hot breaths against my cheek, and the feel of your erection against me, strong even at the worst of times.

It depressed me, that bulge against my mound. I didn’t want it. For once it wouldn’t make me complete, wouldn’t solve my problems. I wanted you, but not in that way. I wanted you in every other way. To hold me. To cherish me. To treat me good, even though I couldn’t put into words at the time what I wanted from you. But no more words needed to be spoken.

You lay on top of me for a while, the water splashing over the side and onto the floor. Usually you would be upset, usually you would be angry. Usually you would hurry to clean up the mess, but not this time. You let it splash. You held me, on top of me, until the water around us grew cold.

The water became tepid, uncomfortable, and even as comfortable as your weight was on top of my body. Straightening your arms, you lifted yourself off of me, causing the whimper that came from my lips. I didn’t want to lose you; even for the moments it would take you to be in my arms again. Without a word, you pull the plug, the water swirling around my feet to drain from our bathtub.

You got to your feet, pulling the shower curtain loudly inside the tub. Seeming to ignore my body on the floor of the tub, you start the water again, pulling the showerhead on, and covering yourself in the flow. Looking down at me finally, you held out your hand, offering me assistance up.

The floor was slippery, but I got to my feet. I reached for you, wrapping my arms around you, pulling your big body towards mine. The tears came back, hurting my throat, falling down my cheeks as the hot water washed over our entwined bodies. We stood under the flow, just holding each other, not happy, but at least complete.

You pushed me away, and I felt like reaching out, grabbing you, pulling you back. But I lacked the energy, the ability to put into words or actions what I wanted. I stood there, meekly, submissively, unable to do anything for myself as you wet yourself thoroughly under the stream, soaking your hair, drops of the water coating your body. You stop drenching yourself and move out of the flow, taking me by the upper arms and placing me under the water. I close my eyes as it begins to pound on me, the drops like little hot bombs going off on my miserable flesh. Breathing heavily, I almost fade out, unable to tell what’s going to happen next, unable to care. But your big hands are moving up and down my body, getting every inch of my flesh wet, like yours is. Your hands find my hair and smooth it back, drenching every strand. I felt twice as heavy, finally warm inside, and your hands continue to move.

One hand left my body, but I hardly noticed, my flesh bending to the will of your hand as it continued to move across my skin, touching every part of me. No special attention was paid to my breasts, no special attention anywhere. Or was it everywhere? The same attention spread out, and made me feel good. Somewhere inside of me depression had moved aside, and a golden spark of happiness showed through. I wasn’t able to recognize it yet, but it was there, being coaxed and fanned and cherished as it would grow.

Your second hand came back, the bar of soap clutched in your slippery fingers. Slowly you began to wash me, scrubbing my skin softly, running the slick bar of soap up and down my arms, under my arms in my sensitive armpits, across my breasts and circulating around my nipples. You followed with your second hand, almost rubbing the soap in, your arms reaching around my body to stroke my back, my buttocks, my thighs. I felt myself helpless in your arms for new reasons, pleasure stroked into my bones. Turning me around to face the stream, you held my body against your back, your strong arms wrapped around me, wiping away the soap with help from the hot water.

I felt the bulge again, prodding against my backside. No disappointment now. Instead, pleasure at the feel of the organ, happiness that it was there, behind me. Slightly I wriggled my hips against you, and my small movement was far from unnoticed. I think you understood, I think you knew that I couldn’t ask, I think you knew that I didn’t totally want it but I think you knew how much I did. No words were spoken, but you understood me, because you are a part of me. Gently your hand drifted down my belly, rubbing my rough pubic hair with your soapy hands, cleaning me completely. The slickness between my legs was much thicker than the water, and you surely noticed it. But you didn’t take any extra time there, giving my sex the same attention that you’d given the rest of my body.

Bending down a bit, you moved your cock between my legs. Not up inside me, but between my legs. It felt as though I were sitting across your length, perched upon you like a bird on a wire, feeling the throbbing of your cock between my thighs. Resting back, my whole weight against you, I allowed you to continue stroking my body, even though all the soap was gone. You took control over me then, while I sat on you, your hands circling my navel and moving up and down my belly. I moaned into the water, half a moan of unhappiness, but half a moan of intense pleasure. Moving back, you pulled your cock out from between my legs, the feel of your skin tugging mine, slicking mine, stroking mine, almost enough to make me fall to my knees right then and there. Kissing my neck under the water, you moved back between my legs, doing it again.

I don’t know how long you continued those fluid movements. They seemed to lift me out of my body and to a better place, a higher place, a wonderful utopia of pleasure. The water beat hard down on my breasts, almost hurting my sensitive nipples as you pulled your cock out and thrust it back in, no penetration but sexy pleasure nonetheless. My orgasm was long in coming, one of intense desperation that I cannot explain, and with a shuddering pleasure I feel relief spreading through my body.

It was as though the days of tension and misery were swept out of my system with each shiver up my spine. You continued to pull your cock between my legs, stroking slowly and leisurely as all my misery was swept away. I turned around and straddled you, taking you in my arms, lifting my face up to yours and kissing you for the first time in days. Our lips had touched, but I hadn’t kissed you, so now I did, drawing all your sweetness and lust and love out through my mouth and into me.

The water hitting my back was turning chilly, it’s warmth drawn completely away. I reached around and turned it off, turning back to hold you in the shockingly chilly air, your hot cock pulsing between us. Finally you made the move to break away, pulling back the curtain and grabbing the towel off the rack, bringing it to me and wiping me down. You dried me like a baby, gently taking all the cold away from me, rubbing it in my hair so that I no longer dripped. Then you gave yourself the same treatment, stepped out of the tub, and holding out a welcome hand led me to the bedroom.

We got on the bed, turning towards each other, gripping each other desperately. Who was in whose arms? I don’t remember, we were both holding each other. Your cock slipped easily between my legs again, up inside me, filling me as you filled the void inside me. We held each other as we made love easily in the awkward position, each on our side, facing each other, neither of us saying a word as we moved fluidly back and forth, in and out, on and off, until we couldn’t move any more.

You didn’t finish. You didn’t need to. I didn’t need to again. We were finally content all the way through, and I couldn’t even remember being unhappy. You drew me back into the real world, into my life, into your life, and I thank you for it. I can’t promise that my depression will never come again, but I can promise that I will always remember that day, when you made me so, so happy. Thank you. I love you.