Chloe and the Red Vinyl Jeans Ch. 04

"You know, there's nothing like lying in bed on a grey Saturday morning with a good book," Chloe was thinking to herself, when a jarring, digital "ding" broke her train of thought. Ugh. She reluctantly put down her copy of The Sun Also Rises and checked her phone. It was a text from Stephanie.

Her roommate had taken advantage of the long weekend in mid-February to go on a short skiing trip with a couple of her volleyball teammates, leaving Chloe to enjoy the place all by herself. But what the fuck did she want now?

"donovans car is in the shop. i told him he could borrow mine for the weekend. he says he can come pick up the keys around 3. can u let him in?"

Ha! Donovan -- Stephanie's freckled, red-haired, water polo "finger me" friend. Chloe wouldn't have trusted Donovan with her toothbrush, let alone her car, but hey, it was Stephanie's life, she could do whatever she wanted, right?

"Yeah, no prob," Chloe typed back. It was already 11:00am. All she needed to do was wait for a knock and let the guy in. Big whoop.

"Thx! the spare keys are next to my computer."

She'd seen Donovan swing by their place a couple more times since that first night Stephanie had brought him over back in November (when Stephanie was showing off her midriff with the black Queen t-shirt tied up in a knot), but not too often. He and Stephanie seemed to be hovering in that nebulous zone between "dating" and "friends." Whatever, it wasn't any of Chloe's business.

Donovan seemed like the kind of guy who was probably involved with about six different girls at once. Handsome, confident, athletic, not particularly "intellectual." Every time he came over, he gave Chloe about as much attention as he would've given a dish sponge.

Suddenly, a brazen thought popped into her brain.

Oh fuck, not this again.

But yeah, why not? Well, for starters, the guy was totally uninterested in her. On the other hand ... no, talk about a stupid idea. Better steer clear of Stephanie's red vinyl jeans entirely.

It had been almost two months since Chloe's little "adventure" with Marco at the Christmas party. Chloe hadn't even bothered to touch her roommate's PVC pants since then. Not that she regretted anything exactly, but she figured it was best to treat that whole evening as a crazy one-off, a mad lark, a brief lapse of judgement. It was all sort of one big ... blur. One minute she'd been sitting in her apartment binge-watching Netflix, the next minute she was sitting on a couch letting a cute guy unzip her vinyl jeans and fingerbang her for fifteen minutes straight.

It was almost as if it had actually happened to "someone else," not Chloe. The thing is ... she hadn't worn the pants and gone to the party against her will. Deep down, she'd wanted to do every single thing she'd done. It was like the pants had somehow brought all these latent desires out of her. Sort of like alcohol, without the pesky hangover.

So yeah. She remembered coming home from Alex's party, and the next thing she knew ... it was morning, and she was lying on her bed, dressed in her underwear, with the PVC jeans sitting on the floor, folded neatly underneath Stephanie's ringer tee. Whatever. She was just relieved they hadn't sucked her into any further mischief.

Sure, she'd seen Marco around campus a couple of times since then and said hi, but she tactfully tried to make it clear to him that nothing serious was about to develop between them. Maybe at some point, you know, she wouldn't rule it out, but ... Chloe didn't want to get in a relationship just yet.

But mmm, what a night. She no longer had to resort to stroking herself before bedtime while thinking about how Stephanie must have felt while wearing the PVC pants; now she thought about how she had felt wearing the PVC pants. Having the eyes of every boy in the room on her, giving them all these embarrassing erections, probably serving as the source of jerk-off material for months to come -- she couldn't exactly complain.

At any rate, that had been weeks ago. It was nice to be Cinderella at the ball for one night, but mercifully, she'd more or less gotten back to her old self. Yup. It seemed like she'd finally put the whole magical, mysterious claptrap behind her.

She'd only seen Stephanie herself wear the vinyl jeans once more since winter break, pairing them with a long-sleeve dark brown turtleneck top and a grey blazer. It was a nice look, particularly for winter, almost like something Stephanie could have worn to work -- if she worked for some exotic European fashion company. But seeing Stephanie in the red pants didn't freak Chloe out, or turn her on like crazy, or make her fall down a rabbit hole of obsession like before. Whatever twisted spirit that resided in Stephanie's red trousers had apparently gotten what it wanted out of her.

Or had it?

Now, after that text from Stephanie, the ideas started flying anew. The shiny jeans might look good with that light blue Rolling Stones t-shirt and jean jacket she'd just bought a couple of weeks ago. She'd let her hair grow a bit longer since Christmas; maybe she could pin it up a bit over her head? That could be cute. Oh God. What if Stephanie finally found out this time? Pfft. Chloe had worn them to a fucking party, and as far as she knew, Stephanie had been none-the-wiser.

But Chloe had more reading to do, and a paper to write, and ... not to mention, Donovan was a Grade-A moron. Hot, though. Ripped abs, square jaw, probably well-endowed, almost certainly knew how to please a woman. Kind of had an "aw shucks," boy-next-door quality to him, with his dopey smile, red hair, and freckles. Two hundred years ago, he could have been Huckleberry Finn. Chloe suddenly pictured Donovan strolling along the banks of the Mississippi river in overalls and bare feet, a piece of straw dangling from his lips, fishing rod in hand -- a shining icon of the American frontier essence.

Were the pants even here? Stephanie probably wouldn't have taken them skiing -- although, now that she thought about it, their waterproof nature certainly might have come in handy in the snow. She slipped into Stephanie's room and ... yep. The red vinyl jeans were right there on the dresser, nestled under one of her volleyball jerseys. Chloe noticed Stephanie's spare car keys as well, next to the keyboard on her desk, just as she'd said. Visions began forming of Donovan stroking the glossy fabric, pressing Chloe up against his rock-solid chest, whispering in her ear, slipping his ...

"Arghh! What is wrong with you?" she muttered to herself as she rushed back into her bedroom. Chloe picked up her book, tried to figure out where she'd left off before Stephanie had texted her, and made her best attempt to dismiss the whole kooky idea.

*****

Dude, was Stephanie serious? Was she really going to loan him her car for the weekend? See, this was why Donovan put up with all of Stephanie's other shit. Because every now and then, she really came in handy.

She'd been toying with him and teasing him since November, giving him make-out sessions, letting him finger her a bunch of times, even jerking him off twice, but for whatever reason, she just wouldn't let him fuck her yet. Whenever he tried to go for it, she always seemed to "have a headache," or needed to "do her homework," or some other lame excuse. It was really getting ridiculous. He had plenty of other fish to fry. She wasn't even that good-looking! But there was something about her attitude, her aloofness, her playing hard-to-get, that just made him want to fuck her even more.

And Donovan really liked those red vinyl pants. He'd tried to make something happen the last few times she'd been wearing them, but she kept brushing him off. Wouldn't it be something if he could fuck her in her those pants? Or get at least a hand job while she was wearing them? Yeah, that would be awesome. But so far, no such luck. And usually, he was a guy who got what he wanted.

Sometimes he couldn't get it off his mind. Just a couple of weeks ago, he'd been banging Alyssa from the track team, and he started fantasizing that she was Stephanie and that she was wearing those shiny red pants and that he was fucking Stephanie instead. Kinda messed up, but it seemed to add a certain spice to things.

And so, at about 3:05pm on that overcast Saturday, wearing a navy blue polo shirt underneath his winter jacket, along with some form-fitting blue jeans, Donovan locked his bike to the gate outside Stephanie's apartment, and knocked on the door.

"Be right there," he heard a girl shout from inside. When the door opened about thirty seconds later, Donovan was greeted by the sight of Stephanie's roommate -- or at least he thought it was Stephanie's roommate? -- wearing a dark blue denim jacket, a light blue Rolling Stones t-shirt that was tied up in a knot around her belly, some white sneakers, and what appeared to be ... Stephanie's red vinyl jeans?

He hadn't been expecting this.

Her dark brown hair, which usually just hung down to her neck, had been pinned on top of her head, with a few stray locks falling over each of her cheeks. She was wearing the same black-rimmed glasses he'd usually seen her wearing, but ... he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before, but Stephanie's roommate was ... hot.

"Hey," he said in an excited tone that betrayed more of his newfound interest than he'd intended it to.

"Hey," Chloe replied playfully. "Come on in, the keys are in Stephanie's room."

Donovan watched eagerly as Chloe strode down the hall, his eyes utterly fascinated by her shiny red butt.

Although he was delighted, he was also confused. Did Stephanie know her roommate was wearing her pants when she was out of town? On the other hand, he couldn't believe his good fortune. Whenever Stephanie wore those red jeans, he thought they were so fuckin' hot, but he hadn't been able to get anything going with her on those particular days, and he'd been obsessing about it for months.

Suddenly, here was Stephanie's roommate, wearing what looked like the exact same red jeans, and, he couldn't believe he was thinking this, but ... she looked better in them than Stephanie did. I mean, Stephanie looked hot, but, on her roommate, they were even more skintight. The t-shirt, the jean jacket, even the glasses for some reason ... it was all super fuckin' hot.

Chloe came back into the living room. "Here they are." Donovan held out his hand. She teasingly dangled the keys for a moment, and then let them rest in his palm. "The car's across the street -- you probably noticed."

"Yeah." Donovan knew he needed to try to make something happen here. A girl doesn't just dress up in vinyl pants to hang out in her apartment by herself, right? She must have had something else in mind. "I've seen you around, you know, but ... what's your name again?"

"Chloe," she stated with a hint of irritation, standing only about a foot away from him.

"Chloe. Yeah." At this point, he had what he'd come over to get, but he couldn't just let this opportunity pass him by. He needed to make some kind of conversation. "What are you up to, Chloe?"

"Oh, me?" She tilted her head to the side. "Just studying. You know." Pausing, she gave him a deadpan stare. "Or maybe you don't." She strutted over to the kitchen area, bent down a little, and sifted a pile of junk mail, watching as his eyes followed her.

"What's your major?"

"English. You don't really strike me as an English major, Donovan."

"Naw. International Studies." She wandered over to the wall and leaned against it. "English wasn't really my subject."

"Water polo guys aren't big readers, are they?" she replied with a wry smirk.

"Naw. I liked Of Mice and Men though."

"Yeah, that's a good one." Chloe slid her hands into the back pockets of the jeans.

"Are you wearing Stephanie's ... aren't those Stephanie's ..."

"Who wants to know?" Chloe responded in an enticingly sing-song manner, her mouth unconsciously slipping into its patented grin, with one side of her pearly-white teeth more visible than the other side.

"Does she know you wear her pants when she's not around?"

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

"Oh, I mean, I was just curious."

"Well curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?" She gestured toward the sofa. "Here, sit down, take off your jacket. You want anything to drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm OK." Wait! If he let her get him something to drink, then he could stay a bit longer, and soak in her hotness for as long as humanly possible. "Actually, maybe like, do you have a Sprite or something?"

"Let me see." She trotted over to the fridge, deliberately exaggerating the squeakiness of the trousers as she moved. "I don't think so. We've got some Coke, is that OK?"

"Yeah, that's fine." He removed his jacket and sat on the couch, trying, in vain apparently, to hide his giant boner. Hold on. Maybe he shouldn't try to hide it at all. Chloe handed him the Coke, and then sat across from him on a loveseat.

"So. What's it like tossing giant balls around all day?"

"Huh?"

"You know, playing water polo?"

"Oh." The hotness that she was radiating made it almost impossible for him to think. "Uh, yeah, well, it takes a lot of practice to get good at it. I'm the center forward."

"I ... don't know what that means, but it sounds impressive." She stood up briefly, put her fingers through the belt loops, and swayed her hips a tiny bit. "They do look good on me, though, don't they?"

"Oh yeah. They look great."

"I wasn't sure what top I wanted to go with. I thought the jean jacket would be cute. And then I thought the t-shirt would be good as well, but I didn't know whether to tuck it into the jeans, or tie it up like this." Chloe suddenly took off her jean jacket and placed it on the sofa as she drew Donovan's attention to the knotted portion of her t-shirt.

"It looks great."

"I thought the shiny red tongue would go well with the shiny red jeans."

"Yeah. Oh yeah."

"You probably don't even know one Rolling Stones song."

"Uh ... didn't they do, like ... 'Walk This Way'?"

"That was Aerosmith. Good guess though."

"Uh ... what about ... 'Jumpin' Jack Flash'?"

"Yes! Very good! You get a prize!" She walked over and patted him on the head, then stepped behind the sofa and leaned against the wall like she'd been doing earlier.

"You have, like, a boyfriend or anything?"

"Well look at you, with all the questions ..." Her hint of a smile betrayed her pleasure at this line of inquiry.

"God," he thought, "she's totally interested right now."

Donovan wasn't a complicated guy. If he wanted to fuck a girl, and if she also wanted to fuck him, then he would fuck her. Sometimes the simplest rules in life were the best. And he'd never wanted to fuck any girl as badly as he wanted to fuck Chloe right then. If she wanted to do the exact same thing, then ... why mess around?

"Cause, I mean, I can't believe I didn't notice it before, but ... you're a total babe."

"Why thank you Donovan. I think you're attractive too -- I'm sure you're quite aware of that. Not the most riveting conversationalist, but, well, we can't be everything."

"I mean, Stephanie's hot too, but, it's weird, you're not usually my type at all but ... can I just see something?"

"What sort of 'something'?" she asked, gleefully sliding her hands into the back pockets again.

"Well, I mean, they look good on Stephanie but ... you totally rock them. I just wanna see for a second ..." Donovan got up off the couch and headed over to Chloe.

"I know, right? Kind of weird. I wasn't sure if I should have gone with a belt, but I thought it worked without one too." She spun around briefly to show off her belt-less waist.

"Seriously." By now he was freely displaying his bulge as he stood face to face with her. "They're like ... plastic or something." Donovan dragged the fingers of his right hand along the seam of Chloe's left thigh.

"The term you're looking for is vinyl." She lightly pinched Donovan's shirt with her own right hand and pulled it toward her. "I like your shirt. So is there some sort of rule that guys on the water polo team have to wear a polo shirt or something?"

"Huh?" Donovan didn't really "think" about his wardrobe the way Chloe thought about other people's wardrobes. "You like it? I think Stephanie picked it out for me." He then reached behind her and dared to squeeze her pliable red rear. Chloe began chuckling at how forthright and blatant she'd let Donovan become.

"Well, I think we can all agree, she certainly has a great eye for fashion."

"So are they uncomfortable to wear, you know, or are they ..." Donovan pulled his hand back from her butt, placed it directly against her crotch, and tugged it upward, causing Chloe to close her eyes and let out a tiny whimper.

"Uh ... no, they're really ... comfortable ... actually." She slowly began grinding against Donovan's palm, tilting her head back, basking in the sensation as the material on her fly crackled and shifted over her clit.

He leaned in and gave her an initial, hesitant kiss. She then responded with a more passionate, less-hesitant kiss of her own. Donovan had the go-ahead. He popped the metal button open, slowly pulled the zipper down, and slid his hands into her PVC trousers, discovering that her underwear merely consisted of a skimpy black thong.

"The inner lining ... is soft ... cotton ... as you can ... see ..." Now Chloe was the one having a hard time speaking, as Donovan proceeded to trace the outer edges of her labia with his highly experienced fingers.

"It's nice," he replied, further exploring the inside of the unzipped trousers with his right hand and massaging Chloe's breasts through her thin blue t-shirt with his left hand.

"You're not ... worried about ... cheating on Stephanie?..."

"What?" He defended his independence with unexpected passion. "I'm not her boyfriend, you know. We're just kinda seeing each other, OK? I can get with other people if I want."

"No one can ... tie you down?"

"That's right."

That settled, Donovan and Chloe proceeded to press their lips and their tongues against each other for several minutes. As they made out, he let his hands travel back over her firm vinyl ass, then along the skin between her butt crack and her t-shirt, while she occasionally flicked her hair back behind her ear and rubbed his shirt. Gradually he returned to her chest and fondled her t-shirt some more, slowly reaching up under it to grope her bra and her breasts, but keeping the knot intact.

"What do you want, Donovan?" Chloe whispered in a brief gap between French kisses.

"I want ... to get in ... your pants."

"Yes, please," she replied.

He unzipped his own jeans faster than he'd unzipped hers, revealing his immense cock, let then fall around his knees, pulled her vinyl jeans down about an inch or so, pushed her thong aside, pressed her against the wall, and proceeded to nail the fuck out of her.

Chloe gasped at the sensation of Donovan's warm, gigantic dick entering her tight little pussy. She slid frantically against the wall, gripping the back of his shirt.

"Fuck me in my vinyl jeans, fuck me in my vinyl jeans," Chloe proceeded to chant in that low, demonic tone she had slipped into during her earlier experiences with the garment.

He lifted her slightly off the floor, his big, muscular hands pressing firmly against the PVC back pockets. "I've been thinking about fucking a girl wearing these pants ... for months now," Donovan whispered. "But it's just not the girl ... I was expecting."