Rub Me the Right Way(67)

Ross



Susan should have been here for my wedding. If she was a dude I would have totally made her my best man, she was after all my best friend.

Becky looked stunning, and was so damned horny that I gave her a quick servicing in the janitors closet at the reception center. Her legs wrapping around me as I thrust energetically inside her sweet, tight pussy. Oh god I was in Heaven with that beautiful woman. Thankfully, College had finished, we had both graduated with Honors and our wedding had gone off without a hitch. Susan missed both events much to my disappointment, but when her family needs her, she is always there. I would make sure that I would be at her graduation next year to cheer her on.

We ran to the car with everyone throwing confetti, or blowing bubbles at us. Becky quickly unzipped my fly and dove her warm, wet mouth onto my cock. Thank fuck we were away from everyone, and the car had a divider from the back seat to the front, kind of like a mini-style limo. I lay my head back and groaned out my pleasure as Becky’s sweet lips caressed the head of my cock. I caressed the golden tresses of her hair, gently undulating my hips upwards in time with her suckling of my cock. Oh God, she was a talented woman, and she was all mine. My body craved hers like it needed food, beer and basketball.

That was one thing where Becky came up short. She absolutely hated basketball, every time I started to talk about it, she would huff and walk out of the room to avoid an argument, of course when we did argue, the makeup sex was out of this world. I watched as her head bobbed up and down. I whispered words of encouragement to her, urging her to suck a little bit harder, use more tongue here or there, and then I finally tensed as I felt the glorious heat of my climax hitting the back of her throat, rumbling out a heavy sigh as my bride lifted herself up from my still hard cock and casually wiped her mouth with the tips of her fingers.

She was perfect. She was my Becky.

Almost a year after our marriage, I got the heartbreaking news.

Becky, my beautiful wife, had gone out shopping. A drunk driver had sped through a traffic signal and struck her car, killing her instantly. The police came and asked me to identify my wife in the morgue. Her beautiful body lay there, nude under a clinical blue sheet. I screamed her name, hoping she would wake up. There was still glass in her golden hair. I reached out and so gently began to pull it from her hair, cutting my own fingers in the process. Two morgue attendants and a police officer had to drag me away, kicking and screaming her name. I was totally numb from head to toe.

A doctor came in and had to sedate me, I woke up the next morning to see the faces of my parents, and Becky’s parents looking down at me with sorrow and pity in their eyes. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted it to be me lying in that morgue. Why hadn’t I insisted that I go and get the damned milk? Becky always had milk in her coffee and we had run out that night.

It should have been me.

My Mom said something about calling someone, letting them know what had happened. I rolled over in the hospital bed and just let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to. I was too damned numb from feeling.

I saw faces at the Funeral, felt hands shaking mine, lips touching my cheek in greeting and sympathy. I didn’t want anything to do with anyone. But there was one face I saw, one I recognized. She came up to my side and placed an arm around me. She held me tight while I cried like a baby against her shoulder.

Susan, my best buddy was there to comfort me in my time of need. I never asked her why she hadn’t come to the wedding, or my graduation. I had missed her. She said something about staying in a hotel to my mother. I barely heard what was said, my brain had gone into ‘I-really-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore’ mode. All I knew was that my wife was in a hole in the ground, and that I need a good stiff drink.





Susan



The funeral was a sad affair, as these things usually are. I cried for Becky, her life had been a lovely one. She was charitable, loving and kind to her friends, family and community. I felt guilty that I was jealous of her life with Ross. My eyes flicked over to him, he looked a man broken, utterly and completely. His face was ashen, and his features gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. It was probably the truth.

I had missed him, and a deep, dark part of my heart rejoiced that he was now ‘available’.

I hated myself for that thought. I moved to his side after everyone else had said their condolences to the young widower. My arm went around him and for the first time since I saw him again, he seemed to notice anyone. Me. He noticed me.

“Susan…” he choked out as his tears fell and his tall, muscular frame shook with the heavy sobs. I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry. I was his best friend and I had acted like a total bitch.

I held him for what seemed like hours until his mother gently pulled him away from me. It had been her who had called me to tell me what had happened, it seemed like she wanted me to know that her son was hurt and needed someone who knew him well to help him get through this terrible time. I didn’t know what else to do, so I booked the cheapest flight I could find and flew back home to Ross.

I watched as everyone milled about in little groups at Becky’s wake. Some of the attendees offering more words of comfort as they passed by Ross, who downed drink after drink until he was not even able to stand straight. He was given a chair which he slumped into. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I went to his side, kissed his cheek and told him I had to go. I slipped a card from my motel into his jacket pocket with my phone number on the back in case he needed to talk, and then I called a cab and got the hell out of there, nursing another case of broken heart, this time in sympathy for the man I still loved.

It was almost midnight when I heard a banging on the door of my motel room. I got up out of bed, clad in my shorts and singlet and headed to the door of the cheap and nasty hotel I had gotten for the single night I was going to be here for Becky’s funeral. I opened the door to find a very drunk Ross standing there, wavering as his taxi left the hotel’s car park.

“Ross…” I said, surprised at him even coming to the hotel. “How did you know what room I was in?”

“Ashked da night mamager…” he slurred at me. “Cann I come in? Shooshan?” he asked. I smiled, opening the door for him to come in. “Come on, you shouldn’t’ be alone tonight.” I said as I led him to the double bed and settled him in where my body heat still warmed the bed. I tucked him in and settled myself down on the uncomfortable looking couch.

“Shooshan… Come into bed wif me…” Ross said with a terrible slur. His breath could kill the immortal undead, but I nodded and got into the opposite side. He snuggled close against me and soon had his hands over my body. He was drunk, and his hands fumbled more than caressed my breasts, then down to my pussy, I didn’t want to take advantage of him in the state he was in, but oh god I wanted this man.

I chose the chivalrous route. “Ross, sweetheart, you need to sleep off the drink, I’ll lie here with you but no funny business okay? It’s not right, you just buried your wife today, just close your eyes, and sleep. I’ll be here.” Ross’s hands stilled, but he held me close. Noisily breathing in the scent of my hair.

“You’re my best friend, Susan, I love you.” He mumbled sleepily. I looked down at him with tears rimming the lower lids of my eyes.

“I love you too, Ross, I wish you truly knew just how much.” I leaned down and kissed his temple, before I too drifted off to sleep.





Ross



My life had gone from absolutely wonderful one moment, then absolute fucking train wreck the next. My Becky was gone, my job prospects were in the gutter and now, I was living in a two bedroom apartment with a collection of almost a thousand beer bottles. I had to wade through them to get to the filthy kitchen. I had hit the lowest of the low points, the next stop would be either the gutter, or buried beside Becky.

It had been three months since we buried her. The day after her funeral, I woke up in some cheap, dingy motel alone in bed with the housekeepers knocking on the room’s door telling me it was checkout time, and that I had to get out. There was a note from Susan, telling me that she was there if I needed her, any time of the day or night and had a new phone number on it. In my hung over state I had left it in the room, and the cleaners had tossed it out with the trash.

I spent most of my days drinking myself into a stupor and watching my old games on the laptop. There was a couple where the women’s team played before the guys and I watched Susan run the gauntlet of other women each trying to steal the ball from her to score for their team. She never let them get it off her. That was my Susan. So beautiful, so graceful, She was the one I had let get away. I had heard that she was going around with another guy from another Frat House. It was too late after I married Becky that I had found out that wasn’t true, too little too late. I was happy… Was.

Now I was in a drunken state, sleeping off my latest round of brain-cell-murder with alcohol as the deadly weapon. I slept most of the day and drank most of the night. I dozed in my filthy recliner, only to be rudely woken up by the noises of my bottles being tossed into their cartons. The smell of stale beer rousing me from the apathy. I blinked in the suddenly too bright room, some asshole had opened the dirty curtains, letting noonday sunshine invade my gloom.