Chloe and the Red Vinyl Jeans Ch. 04

Fuckin' Stephanie, wouldn't put out for him. But now he was getting the last laugh, 'cause her roommate was even hotter than she was.

"Oh fuck ... oh fuck ... Donovan ... I'm gonna ..."

Both the physical and psychological sensation of being desired so intensely by this hot jock who, months earlier, had completely ignored her, began to take Chloe over. The vinyl trousers had demanded strong, healthy sperm, and Donovan's would do quite nicely. She felt a rush of warmth and energy travel up out of her legs and suddenly explode throughout her muscles.

"Ah!"

Wowsers. Her entire body shook and quivered in a way it never quite had before. Every one of her nerve endings seemed to sing out in pure joy.

"Ah!"

She swiftly tossed her head back -- banging it a bit against the wall -- opened her lips, and made no attempt at restraining herself vocally.

"Ah! Ah!"

If Donovan hadn't been holding her up, she might have collapsed from the unpredictable results of her orgasm, but he just kept pounding her and pounding her as she squirmed, her twitching, squeaking legs still almost completely enclosed in the vinyl. Somehow, despite all the movement, her glasses refused to fall off, although they had now taken on a slightly askew appearance on the bridge of her nose.

So there it was. With a little help from a water polo bro, the pants had finally brought her transformation from cute bookworm to sexy superbabe to a completion. Once again, she was experiencing the ultimate paradox of the red vinyl jeans: they had granted her complete control (given that Donovan was doing exactly what Chloe wanted him to be doing), while simultaneously allowing her to completely lose control.

Her vaginal contractions were egging Donovan on, but he was a man who knew how to last. He'd waited so long for this moment, and he wanted to get his money's worth.

"Stephanie ... doesn't know ... what she's missing ..."

Gritting his teeth together, Donovan finally fulfilled his desire to climax inside a girl wearing those hot vinyl jeans, letting Chloe take in all the little water polo sperm that he'd been saving up for Stephanie all those months. With each spasm, his hands gripped her smooth, sticky red behind so firmly that his fingers were practically melding with the vinyl.

Chloe's head snapped forward and drooped over Donovan's left shoulder, and simultaneously her lips closed slightly while her eyes popped open, Donovan not able to see their intense red glow rising and falling with each release of his cum, the inhuman stare suggesting a momentary erasure of any trace of the "real" Chloe. She seemed to hear a voice in her head whispering "Yessss" in a satisfied tone as she gasped and wiggled and held on to Donovan's back for dear life.

Finally, he exhausted his load and they both collapsed against the wall, the skin of Donovan's fingers making a loud "sucking" sound as he let go of Chloe's butt. She wiped her forehead and brushed her hair back from her cheeks, then Donovan kissed her one more time. After a couple more breaths, she stepped toward the sofa, straightened her glasses, readjusted her thong, and carefully zipped up her fly.

"Well, Donovan, that was a great fuck," she said in a tone that might have been more appropriate about twenty minutes earlier. "I guess I'll be seeing you when you come over next time?"

"Uh ... yeah. Yeah."

"Anyway, good luck with the car." Chloe smoothed out her t-shirt, although the knot hadn't budged an inch during all that fucking. Donovan pulled his jeans back up and placed his hand in the right pocket, making sure Stephanie's keys were still there.

"Right. The car." He threw his jacket back on.

"Thanks for coming by. Enjoy your Saturday."

As he stumbled out to the curb and unlocked Stephanie's Toyota, he couldn't help but feel that, as amazing as that fuck with Chloe had been, she had ... taken advantage of him somehow? Hey, whatever didn't kill him could only make him stronger, right? And what about next weekend? He was supposed to get together with Tamara, but how was Tamara going to live up to that? And what did this mean in terms of him and Stephanie? He knew that things were going to be a bit different between them going forward, but in what way, exactly, he couldn't say. Whatever man, it would all sort itself out.

*****

Chloe heard her phone ring, and opened her eyes. She was lying face down on her bed, wearing only her bra and thong. Sitting up quickly, she saw, once again, the vinyl jeans resting innocently on the carpet, right next to her light blue t-shirt and jean jacket. How long had it been since ... she must have taken a nap? Had she and Donovan really just ...

She grabbed her glasses and picked up her phone. A missed call from Isabel -- no rush. Chloe ran her fingers through her hair, which was no longer pinned up above her head.

Well, maybe the vinyl jeans would finally leave her alone after that? Once they've led you into fucking a guy, what else could they possibly want? Or maybe she could never really "know" when she'd be done with them -- and she was learning to be cool with that. It seemed to be out of her hands anyway.

Chloe put on her pajama bottoms, walked back into the living room, picked up Donovan's Coke, spilled the remainder down the kitchen sink, and tossed it in the recycling bin. She went back to her room, sat on her bed, took some deep breaths, grabbed her phone again, and started typing to Stephanie.

"Donovan came and got the keys." Chloe paused, noticed the unintentional double entendre, smiled wryly to herself, then hit "send." She picked up the PVC jeans (removing what appeared to be a stray red pubic hair from the zipper), placed them back on Stephanie's dresser, plopped onto her bed, and resumed her reading.