Smut Marathon: Pathetic fallacy…

‘Don’t know why
There’s no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain’t together
Keeps rainin’ all the time!’
Stormy Weather

Amazingly, I have made it through to the FINAL of the 2018 Smut Marathon! It has been the most amazing experience and I have learned so much about my writing through this year-long process.

Voting for the final is now OPEN and I would love it if you could head over and read the stories before voting for your three favourites. All of the remaining authors are so talented and it means such a lot!

While we wait for the final results, here is my story from the previous round as a thank you in advance for your votes

***

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin and rain thundered down even more heavily than before. Tucked up by the crackling open fire, Melissa should have felt comforted, cocooned as she was in warmth and blankets, but instead she felt trapped. The more she wanted fresh air and sunlight, the darker the clouds became and the more they mirrored her mood. Fucking pathetic fallacy!

Greg burst through the door in a flurry of raindrops and waterproofs. He had only been outside 10 minutes but was completely drenched.

‘Fuck. Fuck!’

He started striding around muttering indecipherable obscenities.

‘Are you going to tell me or should I just work out the good news myself?’

‘The fucking tyre is fucked and I forgot to repair the fucking spare.’ He turned angrily to Melissa. ‘And don’t you dare say anything about that. I know you told me to sort it and I haven’t but there’s nothing I can do about that now, is there? The nearest garage is swamped because too many fucking idiots have driven into lakes or some other crap and they can’t come out until tomorrow.’

He gave an exaggerated shrug that showered rainwater onto the carpet.

‘Apparently we’re in a place of safety so we aren’t a priority!’

‘So we’re stuck here?’ Greg nodded. ‘All night?’

‘Yes, and please don’t start at me about it. I didn’t know that puddle was a pothole. Honestly, I don’t want to be here any more than you do! I’m fucked off and cold and wet, and I’m going to have a shower.’

Without waiting for a response, he stalked off, slamming doors behind him as he went.

Melissa slumped onto the sofa. This was not how today was supposed to have gone. They had come up to the cabin to talk on neutral ground, to see if there was anything left of the relationship that they used to have, but all they had done was fight.

Six years. Six years since she first saw him across the conference centre. Six years since she had pretended she understood his sales pitch about coding software or something so she could speak to him for longer. Four years since they moved in together, perhaps two years since the cracks started appearing. It had been a year since she’d been happy certainly. Three months since they’d had a conversation that hadn’t ended in bickering or unnecessarily hurtful comments. And who could remember the last time they’d had sex that wasn’t a make-up fuck or an expression of anger or pain.

But it had been so good! Those first four or five years had been as close to perfect as she could have hoped for, and she knew their love had just faded away. There was no single event to mark their end, no blame or betrayal. Their time had run out, which is perhaps why they were so reluctant to throw in the towel and why they’d thought this ridiculous trip into the woods could have saved anything. Oh yes, let’s go to the site of so many happy and horny memories to try and recapture what they both knew was lost! Except that the weather and the pothole and the broken spare tyre had likely ruined whatever chance they had.

Melissa headed into the kitchen to try and make dinner. They’d not planned on staying overnight and it was highly unlikely that anyone would deliver takeaway this deep in the forest! Rifling through cupboards, she was pleasantly surprised to find that there was enough there to put together a decent pasta sauce. Choosing to remain busy rather than brood, she set about cooking while waiting for Greg to finish his shower.

Cooking had always been a good way for Melissa to clear her thoughts. There was something about the level of concentration needed that silenced the harmful background chatter but still left her mind free enough to think. Chopping and frying onion, watching it take on colour from chunks of dried chorizo and then merging it all together with the tin of tomatoes was immensely satisfying, and by the time Greg reappeared and she could tip out platefuls of pasta with this glossy sauce, she found that her anger had melted away. After months of arguing, she was suddenly worn out. Empty. Spent.

Greg’s shower seemed to have had a similar effect on his mood, washing away his frustration but also leaving nothing else behind. His face seemed clearer than it had in a long time; less pinched with tension, more like the man she once knew. He had found a dusty bottle of wine in the cellar and poured her a large glass. They sat together, eating in silence but it seemed strangely companionable, unlike any they had shared in recent months.

After a while, he started talking. At first, Melissa thought he was trying to break the silence, but Greg began talking about the last time they had been here – over a year ago and back when they’d still been crazy about each other, on occasion. It had been raining then too but they had danced under the deluge until their clothes were stuck to their bodies and mud coated their legs. They’d laughed and kissed in the rain and fucked against the tree across the yard. They’d run steaming baths and scrubbed each other’s skin until it was pink and clean, and then they’d lain naked on rugs in front of the fire and talked about how they’d wanted to do this forever.

‘I’m sorry…’ Greg hesitated, his voice breaking. ‘I’m sorry I can’t make you happy like that any more.’

‘Oh no, no!’ Melissa took his hand in both of hers, ‘Don’t be sorry, or at least don’t be sorry alone. I’m sorry too! It’s just that, we’re just…’

‘Over.’

‘Yes.’

Melissa didn’t know how long they sat like that, hand in hand, not speaking. She didn’t know whether she realised the tears were pouring down her face before or after Greg pulled her closer to kiss them away. She couldn’t have told you who first stood up or who led the other into the bedroom; she just knew this was what they both needed to do.

Exploring his body knowing that it was likely the last time felt almost like the first again. She hesitated in her touches, needing reassurance that it was OK, that this felt OK. Pulling off his shirt, she leant into his chest, filling her lungs with the smell of his clean skin and kissing every part of him that she didn’t want to forget.

She wondered if Greg had had the same thought when he lifted her onto the bed and slowly removed her trousers and underwear. He had always told her how much he loved her cunt and, as he settled between her thighs, she realised that she had no reason to doubt him now. Kissing gently at first, his tongue swirling her clit became more insistent in response to her squirms. He knew just how to tease her, just how to build her up towards an intense climax and pulling back at the last second. With each frustrated groan, Melissa could feel him laughing against her as he always used to and the memories added a bittersweet poignancy to her pleasure as he pushed her right up to the edge, holding her there for what felt like forever before he allowed her orgasm to spill over.

Her body was still shaking in recovery when Greg stood, taking hold of both legs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Still standing over her, he thrust his cock deep inside again and again, finding a rhythm that forced a second orgasm to race through her. She lifted her leg onto his shoulder and tilted her hips towards him to find the angle that had felt so good so often before, and soon his groans were merging with hers as they came together one final time.

Greg fell onto the bed next to Melissa, both panting and sated. There were no more words to say, nothing left to do. He pulled a blanket over them and they soon fell asleep, still lying in each other’s arms.

The next day, they woke early. The storm had blown through and left a bright, clear sky in its wake. Melissa smiled – fucking pathetic fallacy! The recovery truck rolled up at 9 as promised and had the car fixed within an hour. Driving back, they chatted easily, freed from the hurt and anger that had so plagued them before. Greg dropped Melissa at her sister’s house and they made stilted plans to meet later in the week for her to collect her belongings.

It was strange. It hurt. Finally accepting the end really fucking hurt, but somehow the wound felt clean. Like they’d both be OK. Like this was how it was supposed to happen. Like this was how it should end…

Logo for Smut Marathon, showing a fountain pen nib writing on parchment

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