“Shit!” I call out and hold still, thrusting up into her one final, forceful time.
“Yes, Marty, yes,” she's saying.
“Oh God, no, I... shit!” I hiss as the pain intensifies.
“It's okay,” she says and she's stroking my back now, comforting me.
“No,” I gasp out and lift my torso off her slightly. “I'm... fuck! Cramping!” I manage to say.
“Oh,” she says. “Shit. What do you need?”
What do you need?
Even in the chaos of my pain, I feel the full weight of those words. Or rather their almost divine lightness. And I feel the clarity of realising that nobody has asked me that in a very long time.
As the pain continues, I'm almost certain my muscle is going to be permanently damaged. This cramp is so intense and wild. I know I have to move to try to find some relief. It's only then that I feel the ache in my balls, they were so close. I was so close.
“I need to move,” I gasp. “Stretch.”
“Okay.” Jenna moves from underneath me. She quickly pulls her soaking dress and bra off over her head and naked, so exquisitely naked, she steps out of the shower and finds a towel for me which she throws over my shoulder. Then she grabs a robe and ties it around herself while walking back to me. I'm leaning against the wall now, trying in vain to move my left leg so I can stretch it out, but the pain is still too unbearable.
“I don't think I can move,” I say with a weak half-laugh.
“Lean on me,” she says. “Can you do that and just hobble over to the bed?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I say and that's what we do. Me leaning on her and limping over to the bed in feeble hops.
“Put a towel down,” I gasp out at her as we approach her perfectly made white sheets. “I'm wet.”
“It will dry,” she says quickly. “Just lie down.”
I crash down on my front, as much to hide my shrinking erection than anything else.
“Flex your foot, if you can,” she says, and I try but it’s too painful.
“Fuck, it fecking hurts,” I say.
“It will pass. It's your left calf muscle, right?”
“Yeah,” I groan. “Does it look like it's about to rocket jet out of my body?”
She laughs gently. “No, but it does look tight. Can I touch it, to try and ease the tension?”
“Sure,” I say. “But if I scream obscenities at you, I apologise in advance.”
“I'll start with your foot,” she says and she bends down at the end of the bed and I feel her hands wrap around my foot, one at the heel and the other on my toes, she slowly pushes my toes down so my foot is at a right angle. It pulls on the cramp and deepens the ache but almost in a good way. Almost.
“Shit,” I whisper.
“Just hold it here for a while,” she says. “It will pass, I promise.”
It will pass. It will pass.That is something that I have heard so many times over the last year.The grief will pass. The pain will pass. The hangover will pass. The depression will pass. The self-loathing will pass.I’ve rarely believed it.
But when her hand makes a V-shape, presumably with her thumb and index finger, and she runs that up against my spasming muscle, I start to believe her.It will pass. This pain will pass.In fact, it’s fading already.
“That almost feels good,” I say as she does it again. Again and again, until the sharp pull has gone and even the ache left behind starts to dull.
“Is it better?” she asks eventually but she doesn't stop. With my eyes closed, face down in the pillow, I feel a dip in the bed and then I feel her come to sit on my backside, her robe plush and soft on my naked arse cheeks, and her hands nowgoing back to both of my calf muscles and massaging with the same V-shape but in the opposite direction. I can imagine almost perfectly what she must look like going back and forward from her waist to do the movement. It makes blood return to my cock, and I quickly slide my hand under my body to remove the wasted condom that has all but rolled off completely.
