More Than Video Games

Author's Notes:

This is my entry into the 2016 Winter Contest. I would be more than happy for a generous gift of votes and comments to celebrate the season.

Thanks go out to my lady love who helped me tie this package together, bikoukumori for another sterling edit pass and buckyduckman for invaluable feedback during the beta reading stage.

All participants are 18 or above.

*

On the day I broke up with my girlfriend, while I was having breakfast alone, I heard her unlock the apartment door.

"Welcome home," I called, putting down my tablet. Finding a new place to stay mid-semester, especially in Munich, was a nightmare. Expensive too.

"Good morning," she said, breezing through the hallway and into the bedroom. No hug, no kiss, not the slightest bit of the tenderness that had drawn me to her in the first place. I heard her rummage in the bedroom, then she came into the kitchen. Mia was stunning, even this early. Her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders down to mid-back and her hazel eyes sparkled. Her mood was much better than mine.

"Oh, coffee. Thanks," she said, pouring herself a mug. She smelled freshly showered. Not her usual scent.

"Help yourself. How did your studies go?" I asked, playing along.

Mia took a sip from her coffee and looked at me over the rim of her mug.

"You know I'm not studying."

"Uh-huh."

"In fact, I'm seeing someone."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the sting to come. It somehow didn't. I exhaled slowly.

"You're taking this very well," Mia whispered.

"It's not the biggest surprise ever," I said. "And you've not been very subtle about it. When was the last time you've kissed me?"

"I'm sorry. It's just..." Mia's voice broke and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't fuck around my back," I said, very quietly.

Instead of throttling her, I drank the rest of my coffee, got up and began to pack, Mia hovering just inside my field of vision, wringing her hands. I hated how she killed our relationship by being so fucking adult about it and I figured before I did anything stupid, I might as well leave.

After an uncomfortable night on the sofa, I carried my stuff down one box at a time while Mia watched from the kitchen.

"Good bye, Lukas," Mia said, closing the door behind me. I picked up the last of my boxes and carried it down three flights of stairs to my old, pink Peugeot 206. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to cry or to laugh. Three words to end three long years we've been together. I thought we were on to something but, looking back, I realized the only thing keeping us together was the sex and the fact we both studied Law at Munich University. She came from a rich family, her father was in the fashion business while I came from working class parents. She loved the arts, fashion and shopping trips to Milan while I enjoyed a good video game or a sweaty rock concert. We argued over stupid shit like if I should put my gaming system into the living room or the office. But when we made up afterwards, we set our bed on fire.

All was well I thought, up until three months ago. We had spent less and less time together, even ate on separate occasions. Mia didn't tell me where she went anymore and eventually I stopped asking. Then she stayed away from home overnights. I wasn't stupid enough to believe her stories about "studying with her friends" because one of the reasons we hooked up in the first place was that I helped her get her shit together. Mia going out to study with her ditzy friends sounded as likely as me winning the freaking lottery. I should have cornered her, asking when she'd tell me about her new lay, but I didn't. Instead, I started to check the classifieds for a new place to stay. I could hardly afford my share of the rent and staying in our roomy Altstadt flat alone was way out of my budget.

* * * *

As I fumbled with the keys, shivering in the cold December air, I couldn't help but smile. Somehow we had managed three years. Not bad, all things considered.

But now what? I had planned to stay over the holidays in our shared flat to prepare for the inevitable end-of-semester barrage of tests but staying with Mia was out of the question. She had offered to let me stay over the holidays but the damage was done. The last thing I wanted was to hang around while she invited her new lover and sleeping on the couch every night wasn't my idea of fun either. I declined.

I unlocked the trunk of my car, amazed that the lock hadn't frozen shut overnight. Six boxes filled it up to the ceiling and I prayed I didn't have to drive backwards. When I ducked back out, I saw a black BMW slide into a parking spot directly in front of the house and out came a long coat wearing, slick guy. South European type, gold stud in one ear. None of our neighbors. He rang at our place. Mia didn't waste much time, it seemed.

I threw the last box and my overnight bag into the car, slid across to the driver's seat, pulled the door shut behind me and turned the key. The trouble with fifth-hand student cars is their utter lack of reliability. Even an old faithful like the Peugeot hated the cold weather and it took me a small eternity to get it to start. With the running engine the heating came on and I realized I had no fucking clue where to go. My parents lived in Hamburg, practically at the other end of Germany, and I dreaded the almost 800 kilometer drive through snow and Christmas holiday traffic. Most of my friends from University were out of town for the holidays as well and, with the little bit of cash I had on hand, renting a hotel room simply wasn't in my budget.

My cell rang. A bit surprised I dug it out of my pocket. "Aunt Stephanie" it said on the display. Mom's younger sister. I took the call.

"Yes?"

"Lukas! How are you?" She sounded so lively, I found it hard not to smile.

"Could be better. What did I do to deserve your call?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me where my sister and her husband had vanished off to."

With a start I remembered. Another reason why going home was kinda out of the question. Hanging around alone for two weeks while my parents were off visiting relatives all over the country wasn't my idea of fun, not after today.

"They're doing the rounds, like every damn year. Both sets of grandparents, friends... Have you tried Mom's cell?"

"That's why I called you. She's not picking up."

"Typical. I've bought them a cell phone for that kind of emergencies and what do they do? Most probably it's on the kitchen counter, collecting dust." I sighed. What was it with parents and current technology? It wasn't that long ago I taught my father how to run games on my old PC, or so it felt like.

"Let me think. If they do it like every year, they should be at your parents' place right about now. Come to think of it, why aren't you there?"

A pause greeted me, then Stephanie quietly said "You know, I'm not much for family gatherings right now. I would have to explain too much." She stopped. "You don't sound so hot yourself. Anything up?"

"Mia and I broke up. The 'mutual agreement' bullshit."

"The girl you had with you at your mother's birthday in June, looked like she wanted to be elsewhere?"

"Yeah, that's her. Maybe garden BBQs are beneath her station," I grumbled.

"Didn't you say you lived together?"

"We did, until about ten minutes ago. I decided to spare her my company and leave."

"Where are you now?"

"Sitting in my car with no clue where to go."

Another pause.

"Here's an idea. Why don't you come out to visit me in Habischried? It's just a ninety minutes drive. I can offer a hot meal and a bed for a few days until you've caught yourself," Stephanie suggested.

"Sure, why not? Can you send me your address?"

"Give me a few minutes. I'll be seeing you in an hour and a half then!"

"If you speak with my parents, tell them I said 'hi', okay?" I asked her.

"Sure thing. Drive carefully!" She hung up and I kicked my car into gear. It would be a nerve-wracking drive anyway, no matter the distance. Leaving Munich was easy enough and while I threaded my car onto the Autobahn, I received a text from Aunt Stephanie with her address. Things didn't look so bad.

* * * *

Somewhere along the A92 between Landau and Platting, the car died. From one moment to the next, the engine was silent. Before I could crash into anything (or anybody could crash into me!), I pulled the car onto the breakdown lane, amazed that at least the brakes still worked. I turned on the hazard lights and stopped. It was around half past four already and getting dark, thick snowflakes pouring from the heavens. It promised to be one hell of a cold night. And of course the heating had died too.

This was quickly turning out to be the worst day ever. I called a tow truck and wrapped myself into my jacket. Then I hopped out of the car and set up my emergency triangle behind it. The last thing I needed was a caffeine-crazy trucker slamming into me. It took me way too long to dig that damn thing out from under all my boxes. By the time I had it in hand, I was freezing cold.

Within minutes my hands were frozen and by the time I had set up the warning signs the last vestiges of heat had vanished from the car as well. Shivering, I hopped back in and waited. And waited. And waited.

Two hours and a phone call with Aunt Stephanie later, to let her know I would be a little late, the tow finally arrived and pulled in before my car. A tired-looking man with a beat-up ADAC cap hopped out of the truck and knocked at my window. I winched it down.

"Can you open the hood for me?" he asked.

"Sure, if my fingers haven't fallen off," I replied, none too happy. I fumbled for the opening mechanism and the small hood popped open.

He pulled a flashlight from his high-visibility vest and dove into the engine compartment. Just a few moments later, he resurfaced, closing the hood with an air of finality.

"Looks like your fuel pump has died. Did you really think duct tape would solve anything?" he asked. I shrugged. I owned this car all of five months, having bought it from a fellow student who had no doubt tried to cut costs by home-fixing some of the issues it had when she bought it from another fellow student. But I paid only two hundred Euros for it after all.

"I'm afraid I need to tow you. Can you pay or do you have a membership?"

The fee for towing me right up to Aunt Stephanie's doorstep was just enough to eat up the last of my cash. I figured once I was there I could ask my parents for help so I grudgingly forked over the money, got out of the car and hopped into the warm tow truck while the repair guy winched my car onto the bed of his vehicle. Half an hour after his arrival, we were on our way.

* * * *

"My, you're late," Aunt Stephanie said when she opened the door.

I checked my watch. "Barely seven. All things considered, I was pretty fast."

She took my bag, our hands touching briefly. "You're ice-cold!" she exclaimed. "You, young man, need a hot shower. ASAP."

"Who are you calling 'young man?'" I asked her. Stephanie was Mom's younger sister and the late arrival in her family. She was... wait, about thirty-six? She had her blond hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and wore some kind of warm leggings under a baggy sweatshirt which couldn't hide the curves of her breasts.

Her grey eyes sparkled with mirth. "Face the facts. You're the young one around here and I may call you what I like. 'Mr. Freeze,' for example."

"Yes, m'am," I quipped, earning a slap on the butt as I squeezed past her into the narrow hallway of her row house. To my right, a curved stairwell led to God knows where, a door to my left into a cozy kitchen. The smell of tea wafted out of the room. Straight ahead from the living room, I heard the murmuring of a TV news broadcast, predicting the worst winter snowfall in years.

"This way," Stephanie said, ascending the stairs. "I'll show you where you can crash for the time being."

I trotted up the stairs behind her. On the landing, she stopped. "The bathroom is over here, there's my bedroom and this," she said and opened a door, "is yours for as long as you'd like to stay."

The room had a desk, a lot of empty shelf space and a studio couch. A vintage typewriter and PC were on the desk next to each other and the couch was freshly made.

"Isn't that Uncle Jochen's office?" I asked her as she put my bag at the foot of the couch. "Won't he be using this room? He's still writing his novel, right?"

"Nope," she said, her eyes turning hard for an instant. "He's gone."

"He left you?" I asked her.

Stephanie laughed, a harsh, little sound. "No.

I

told

him

to go."

"What happened?" I asked her.

Stephanie looked into my eyes and any kind of humor was gone. "Listen, don't get this wrong. I respect other people's sexuality but I found him in our bedroom, being fucked up the ass by another man."

Before I could say anything, a tiny little smile tugged at her mouth. "Your face was utterly priceless just now," she said with a chuckle. "I didn't believe it either when I stumbled into the bedroom. Come, let's take this downstairs."

"What, no shower for me?" I asked her as we went back downstairs. It was nice and warm but the Autobahn chill still sat deep in my bones.

"You had to ask, now you'll get the whole story," she said. I flopped onto the corner seat while Stephanie poured two mugs of tea. "Still only one sugar?"

I nodded, thankfully accepting the steaming cup.

"I could have accepted him being gay. Maybe I could have accepted him bringing a man into our house -- if I were drunk enough. He only needed to talk to me, but no, he didn't. He locked himself into that office for hours, pretending to write and when he came out, he had killed off another bottle of wine. And out of the blue, I catch him with his pants down while that American ex-soldier type fucked him right in our bed."

"So you're mad because he betrayed your trust."

Stephanie sipped her tea and exhaled slowly. "I could have killed him. But you know what? I didn't even make a scene. I quietly left after I knew he had seen me and went into the living room, waiting for him to come speak to me. His lover left eventually but did he come downstairs? Did he apologize? Did he even try to talk to me? No. When it was past midnight, I crept up the stairs and had a look. He wasn't in our bedroom which still was a sorry mess. He again had locked himself into his office. When he finally deigned to come out of his office the next morning, he didn't say anything. I had to practically interrogate him until he finally acknowledged what he did."

"Who was the guy?"

"Going by the jacket and the shades, I think some Air Force person. A pilot maybe? A friend of mine told me these flyboys like the cock up their channel. I couldn't care less, really. Anyway, I tried to talk, to get him to open up to me. No use. Then I threatened to throw him out, just to get a reaction, anything. Jochen quietly packed his things and left."

"Just like that?"

Stephanie sighed and took a sip from her tea. "Yes, just like that. I wanted him to argue, to shout at me, to defend himself. But you know how he was. Never much of a confrontational person."

I reached across the table and patted her forearm. "I'm really sorry he hurt you like that."

Stephanie shot me a little smile as she closed her hand over mine and squeezed it. "Thank you. My luck with men, really. How's the tea?"

"Nice. But I think I'd better hop under the shower to thaw."

"Sure, go ahead." She squeezed my hand one last time. I got up and climbed the stairs. From my bag I got a fresh set of clothes and my toiletries, then I entered the bathroom and stopped. Very nice bathroom with all the amenities. Large, triangular bath tub in one corner, huge sink, toilet, bidet, you name it. It also had one of those fancy shower cubicles with the basin recessed into the floor and a full clear glass enclosure. I placed my fresh clothes on a shelf, stripped down and hopped into the shower. It was large enough for two.

The hot water was divine and, after five minutes of just soaking it in, I grabbed my shower gel and lathered up. I remembered the last time I had been in such a luxurious bathroom. Back in September Mia and I were attending Fashion Week in Milan and the hotel had a bathroom not unlike the one I was in. Hours of watching stick-thin models parade one outlandish outfit after another had wrung me out but when Mia came into the shower, my fatigue was blown away. She had asked me to soap her up and things quickly escalated from there.

The memory of Mia, kneeling in front of me, my hands in her hair as she looked up at me with my cock between her smiling lips got me hot and bothered. Before I knew it, I was stroking my cock. It was a bittersweet pleasure because, after that Fashion Week, things started to deteriorate between us. Didn't change the fact that afternoon in Milan was so unbelievably hot and I was enough of a dick to milk that memory for all it was worth.

She had grabbed my ass as I fucked her mouth, the tip of my cock nipping at her throat. She had inhaled deeply and on my next stroke, she took my full length, letting me slide down her throat. Her nose brushed my pelvis and I nearly came then and there. But Mia had other plans. She pulled back her head, coughed and let me slip out of her mouth. Shooting me a sexy little grin, she turned around, leaned into the shower wall and pushed her ass my way. I saw her fingers spreading her labia for me, inviting me to fuck her and, as I stepped into her, I realized how wet she was. One hand snaked onto her breast, the other one went around her stomach and I fucked her, fast, hard and into the shower partition. She had urged me on, no, she had ordered me to fuck her real good and I did, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow.

In Aunt Stephanie's bathroom, I was mimicking how her pussy had grabbed my dick and I fucked my hand with closed eyes, trying to capture the memory. All too soon I realized I wouldn't last much longer. Gnashing my teeth, I picked up speed. I was so close!

Someone gasped nearby.

My eyes flew open and I looked around. Aunt Stephanie stood in the middle of the bathroom, two big folded towels pressed against her chest. Our eyes met and she blushed. I was so shocked at her being there, I couldn't stop. Groaning, I came, shooting thick ropes of cum against the shower partition.

"Umm... I thought you might need these," she stammered, putting the towels down. When she looked up again, her gaze wandered from the cum oozing down the shower partition back to my rod, then to my face.

"Yeah... thanks I guess," I said, turning my back on her, blushing furiously.

"I'm downstairs if you need anything," she said, somehow quite out of breath. "And do clean up once you're done, okay?"

* * * *

I spent ten more minutes under the shower, trying to make sense of what had happened. She caught me jacking off, okay. But why the hell did it feel so utterly awkward? I wasn't sure if I could look her in the eyes anytime soon. What was she thinking about me? Barely five minutes in and I was happily cranking one out in her shower cubicle. Rather self-conscious, I wiped my cum off her shower partition and used the retractable shower head to rinse the spot thoroughly.

No amount of ice water would spare me from the inevitable confrontation, so I grit my teeth, stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

Aunt Stephanie waited in the living room. She sat on her sofa, two fresh mugs of tea on the table next to each other. The TV was off and she smiled at me when I entered.

"Hey... uhmm..."

"Don't. No need to apologize," she said, motioning for me to sit next to her. "Horniness happens." A grin tugged at her lips. "Besides you could clean up right afterwards so no harm done. If anyone is to blame here then it's me. I should have knocked. Are you mad?"