Come Cum With Me

It took him a moment to recognize what had disturbed him.

It was the sound of his name being called. Soft, like a whisper. "Ted."

He blinked and looked around the darkened room.

It was just another hotel room, in another town he had been called to for work.

Nothing special. But the voice came again. "Ted."

Who could it be? Except for his boss and coworkers, his wife, no one knew he was here.

He looked closer, there was no one in the room with him.

Where was the noise coming from? It was so quiet but it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Ted." The voice seemed to come closer.

"Who is it?"

"Have you ever wondered how different your life would be if we were still together?"

"Constance?"

He turned the light on the nightstand on.

There was no one there. He searched the room. The bathroom. The closet. Looked out into the hall. Checked the phone and his cellphone. It was 3:06 in the morning.

It was quiet. There were no sounds from his neighbors' rooms.

He looked out the window. Senseless, as he was on the 7th floor, but he did it anyway.

Nothing. He must be losing his mind.

He turned the light off and climbed back into bed. The alarm went off at 5:30.

The next day, checking for damage left by the storm, he thought about Constance.

They had been together while she was in college, a little, and for some time while she was in graduate school.

They had gone to the same high school, and he knew her then. But she was a year ahead and dating a college guy and he was dating one of her friends from the track team. There had also been some stolen moments then.

But, she was at school several states away and a long distance relationship, besides not knowing where she'd find a job when she finished, brought them to a decision to part company. That was over twenty years ago.

He had found and married his wife, Carol, and they'd had a couple of kids. He was happy.

She ended up with a guy she met in school. They had never married. He hoped she was happy.

He'd seen her a couple of times over the years when she'd come home to visit her family.

She was unlike any of the other women he had dated. She seemed as much of a friend as she was a lover.

She had a figure that could stop traffic. Curvy, a small waist. Breasts that were big, but not huge. They fit her. And, even the fact that it was just noticeable that one was a little bit larger than the other did not detract from her looks. She wore her hair long. Really long. It reached her butt for most of the time he knew her. She'd cut it on a couple of occasions, but always went back to wearing it long. Her eyes were brown, like his.

He'd missed her while she was in the hospital in high school. She'd missed almost 3 months and still came out at the top of the class.

He had been dating one of her friends. That's how they met. She wouldn't have been on his radar otherwise.

She was smart, funny, sexy. Even though she never really wore anything too revealing back then. She had been a little self conscious and unsure of herself.

They laughed and talked for brief periods numerous times when they were still in high school. He had talked her into the darkroom one day. Although she had been friendly, she seemed much more interested in the chemicals and the process than him.

He was torn between his current girlfriend and her. He broke up with Elaine and tried to see more of her. She wasn't really happy with her college guy.

It was harder to get together when she was in college. By that time she had dumped the college guy and was dating someone who wasn't in college. She would never be alone for long. That was just the way she was.

And he had gone into the service.

He'd called her, from overseas, when the non-college guy dumped her toward the end of her senior year.

She made a last minute decision to go to graduate school.

Now he was overseas and she was a few states away.

He continued to think of her and hoped that she was thinking of him.

What little relationship they had blossomed in her first few years at grad school.

She concentrated on her studies and he came home, got a job, and started his life.

They got together when she came home for breaks.

She wasn't so timid anymore.

She had no problem walking around his apartment in next to nothing and slept naked next to him.

He was glad that she didn't shave her bush. The hair peeked out around her bikini bottom and it turned him on just realizing what was there.

She had pretty much jumped him one night while they were out and they made love in a sleeping bag on the outskirts of a cemetery.

One incident stood out in his mind. He was helping her out with her car so she had come for a visit.

They were in bed and she was straddling him.

What a sight! That body sitting above him, where his eyes could take in all of her, and his hands could too. Her long hair tickled his thighs. She was warm and wet around him.

She was sitting on her heels, using her leg muscles to move up and down on him. Her breasts bouncing up and down with her movements.

He stopped her and put his thumb under those brown curls, on her clit. And started to rub.

And he watched.

Her eyes closed and she got this weird little smile on her face.

Then she opened her eyes again and watched him. He kept going.

"Wetter and wetter and wetter."

She smiled at him and began to squirm.

"Hold still."

"I can't."

He smiled and continued a bit longer but she kept squirming on top of him. So, he stopped and helped her ride him until he came inside her. They then curled up together for a while, happily.

One of the guys nudged him, "Hey, you done with that one yet?"

Back to reality, he realizes he's been standing there in a daze. And, now, he had a hard on.

Shit. OK, back to work, and hope nobody noticed.

The work ended and he went back to the hotel.

He slept fitfully, but nothing woke him like the night before.

He woke to the alarm. One more day here, and he would go home.

But, before he went to work, his curiosity got the better of him. He checked her Facebook page. It was gone.

OK, she'd never been a frequent user, but still..

He looked at his page, his list of friends. As you might expect, she was gone from there, too.

What the hell had happened?

He checked his phone. Nothing unusual there. Another voicemail from his wife, one from his daughter, and another from his boss.

OK, he really needed to get to work.

He was distracted again today, and John kept looking at him.

"What's going on, Ted? You're not your usual self."

"Sorry. I just.. Well, I'm not sure."

"Maybe you're coming down with the flu or something. We can finish up here. There isn't much left. Why don't you go back to the hotel and see about getting home earlier?"

"Yeah, OK, maybe I'll do that."

"OK. See you at the airport or back at the office."

He grunts and turns away, then drives back to the hotel.

Once inside his room, he calls her number. Nothing. Straight to voicemail.

He tried calling her parents. The phone was busy. He tried again later. Still busy.

Now what? Call her brother, her sister, where she worked?

She had given him her business card, the others he'd have to look up. Alright, that would be easiest.

Again, a call to her number went to voicemail. So, he called the main number for her company.

"Hello, I'm looking for Constance Foster."

A hesitation on the line. "Um, sorry, she doesn't work here anymore."

"What? What happened? Did you guys fire her or something?"

"What? No. Um, I really shouldn't say anything."

"What?!"

"Um, she's dead."

He freezes. Dead? How could she be dead?

"Sir? Sir? Are you still there?"

He swallows a large lump in his throat. "Um, yes, thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"Please. When did it happen?"

"As I understand it, early yesterday morning."

He hangs up. Early yesterday morning.

How early was that?

Was it when he heard the noise? When he thought he'd heard her call his name?

Ghost stories.

She was dead. How could she speak to him?

Dead. Constance was dead. He would never see her, speak to her again. Hear her laugh, see her smile. Constance was dead.

It hurt. He put his face in his hands. She had been so full of life. Dead.

After a while, he tries to call her parents again. The line is clear and the phone rings.

"Hello?" The voice is weary, her mother.

"How did she die?"

"Who is this?"

"I'm sorry. I knew her from high school; we dated off and on."

"Wait, I remember you, Ted, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Another drunk driver. Another head on collision. We're having a service on Monday. She wanted to be cremated. It'll take a couple days for her to get here. I could send you the information, if you like."

"Yes, please. I'm sorry."

"I know you cared about her."

"Yeah, thanks, I did."

He cut the connection. It was true. She was gone.

He went down to the bar and got drunk.

He bought rounds of drinks.

He tried to get others to toast her life.

The manager tried to get him to go back to his room.

He got belligerent.

His coworker, John, was called and tried to talk him down.

"Ted, what the hell's wrong with you?" Ted takes another drink. "Ted, what happened?"

John has a hard time figuring out what he's saying. "Sheeth dead."

"Somebody's dead?" His nod almost takes him off the bar stool.

"Carol?"

Ted shakes his head, rather violently. He then blinks, and grabs his head with both hands. "Oooow."

"Who is it? Your daughter?"

"No! Dammit, leaf me alone!" He turns back to the bar. The manager is watching from a distance.

"C'mon, Ted, this isn't doing you any good. You've had enough. Come with me."

"Don' wanna."

"Listen, Ted, if you wanna keep your job, you better come with me."

Ted closes his eyes, breathes, and looks back at John.

"Hey, man, whoever it was, this won't bring her back."

He sighs. "OK."

Ted was a pretty big guy, but, thankfully, John was no small man himself.

He draped Ted's arm over his shoulder and hauled him to the elevator.

Inside Ted continues to ramble. "Can't belief sheeth gone."

Obviously somebody he knew. His mother had been dead a few years now. He didn't have any sisters. At least, he never talked about any. Who was this woman whose death had this much of an effect on him?

And, how was he gonna get him on a plane in the morning?

At the door to his room, he asks for the key. Ted pulls out his wallet and opens it, dropping everything on the floor.

"Jeezus, Ted. Where's the door key?"

Ted goes into some pockets as John starts picking up the contents of the wallet.

Ted finds the key and slides it into the slot. Red light. Again. Red light. Again. Red light.

Now he's getting frustrated. "Goddamn keys, anyway." He slams it in. Red light.

John, his hands full of bills, receipts, and other papers, comes up from his crouch. "That's the wrong way, man."

Ted pulls it out and shoves it in the slot again. Red light.

"FUCK!"

"Gimme that." John takes the card, orients it properly, slides it in and pulls it out. The light turns green.

Ted shoves on the door handle, and slips, slamming his face into the door. "OOWW! FUCK."

John opens the door and shoves Ted inside. He trips over his own feet and ends up on his hands and knees.

John sets everything on the table and turns to Ted. "Sleep it off, man. I'll come get you in the morning so we can go to the airport. You gonna be OK?"

"Fuck you."

"Ha, ha. I love you, too. Good night."

Ted crawls over to the bed and falls onto it, face first.

About half an hour later, he's puking in the bathroom. "Ah, fuck. Oh, crap. Oh, fuck."

Having gotten most of it out of his system, he rests his face against the cool rim of the bathtub. And falls asleep.

A couple of hours later he stirs.

His mouth tastes horrible and his head feels like crap.

He flushes the toilet again, rinses out his mouth, and brushes his teeth.

Looking at himself in the mirror he runs his fingers through his hair. "You asshole."

He goes out to the bedroom and looks at the clock. Damn. It was only 5:30. He'd gotten completely wasted by mid afternoon.

At least he could sleep it off before he had to get up in the morning to go home.

Without bothering to shower or pull down the bedclothes, he strips naked and drops backwards onto the bed. "Ow. Fuck. My head."

He closes his eyes.

"Did you ever wonder..."

Bolt upright in the bed, he looks around. The sun wouldn't go down for a couple of hours so the room was bathed in filtered sunlight. Nothing. But it hurt his head.

He had to be going crazy.

But he couldn't stop thinking of her.

He'd never be able to see her again. Would never have the chance to touch her skin, feel her hair. Ever again.

The residual alcohol, among other things, pulls him back to sleep.

He's groggy when he next wakes, eyes closed.

There's a warm, obviously female form pressed up against him. Her head is on his shoulder and her hand is on his chest, running little circles with her fingers.

His hand moves to her shoulder, and he twists, and opens his eyes. "Gah!"

"I know I'm not pretty, but I usually don't scare people."

"But, but.. Constance, you can't be here. You're dead."

"Do you feel me?" She takes the hand from her shoulder and pulls it to her breast.

Warm. Soft. Breathing. Heart beating.

"But.. how?"

"Don't think of that. Think of a pleasant memory of us."

She was here. On the bed. Next to him.

Warm, alive. Naked.

Sure there was some grey in her hair and some things were a little looser and lower than they used to be, but he wasn't what he was 30 years ago either.

"Constance..."

She puts a finger on his lips. "Shhh. Touch me."

After a second or two, he rolls her to her back.

Putting his hand in her hair, he kisses her.

The kiss is long, deep, their tongues dueling for supremacy. There was a fever in both of them.

He moved his mouth from hers as her arms worked around his body and his hand caressed her flesh, stroking up and down her body.

He nibbled under her ear. Nipped at her throat as her neck arched. He kissed across her collarbone.

Her hands clutched him tightly to her, nails digging into his back.

He moved his weight onto her as he captured a breast with his mouth. Laving the nipple to make it stand taller then sucking it into his mouth.

She sighed. She moaned. She dragged her nails up his sides.

One of his hands slid down to that hair, more tightly curled and the same brown as on her head, and her thighs parted for him.

His fingers trailed between her thighs and her pelvis moved up, to meet his hand.

He touched. He stroked. He felt her wetness.

He was hard. And she was ready.

He positions himself over her, his cock poised at her entrance.

He took her face in his hands, looked into her brown eyes and she looked into his.

Smiling. Anticipating.

And then, the plunge. In to the hilt.

Wet. Warm. Tight.

She had borne no children so his manhood would be about the largest thing that had entered there.

He groaned, and practically collapsed on her there.

It felt wonderful.

He begins his thrusts into her.

His words almost a mantra. "So long. So long."

They moan together, the tempo increasing, the pressure building.

She puts a hand to the side of his face, and he slows.

"I want to ride you."

He smiles, comes down, and nibbles along her jawline. "Oh, yes."

He wraps his arms around her and rolls them over.

She comes upright, sitting on her heels, smiling.

Then, memory collides with reality. She shakes out her hair, and runs her fingers through it. The ends lay on his thighs, a soft, whispering sensation.

She leans down and kisses him, then works kisses down his chest. She captures one of his nipples, and bites it lightly. He jerks, both within her and without.

She works over to his other nipple, and repeats the bite. The reaction is the same. He gasps and shudders.

She grasps both her breasts and rubs her thumbs over the tightened tips. Her head falls back, and she moans as she twists them between thumb and forefinger.

More of her long hair tickles his thighs.

His hands rest on her thighs as he watches one hand move down her body.

She pauses briefly, touching him, feeling where they're joined, then wets her finger with her own juices, and begins to rub as she raises herself up on him.

He takes her hand, intending to replace it with his own, and she stops.

"No. Here." She takes his hands, and places them on her breasts.

He starts to massage her breasts and tweak her nipples as she begins to move up and down on him. Her fingers are stroking her clit.

He shoves the pillows behind his shoulders and returns to fondling her luscious breasts. At least a B-cup, maybe a C.

As their breathing comes faster and their bodies begin to film with sweat he pulls her down and takes a nipple into his mouth.

She's moaning, panting and he feels his balls tighten up, his cock swell. Almost ready to erupt.

Her legs begin to shake and she starts to chant. "Come with me. Come with me. Come with me."

As he feels the first contractions of her pussy, the world explodes in flashes of light.

John gets the manager to open the door the next morning when Ted doesn't come to breakfast, answer the door, or answer his phone.

The coroner reports an aneurysm had burst in his brain. Death had been rapid, hastened by blood thinned with alcohol.

The medical examiner could not, however, account for the way he looked. Victims of aneurysm generally had horrible headaches and many died grimacing in pain.

Ted had died with a smile on his face.