Jealousy

Thank you, Kirk.

* * *

I've always been the possessive, controlling kind, and it had never bothered me before. Although my famous habit of starting fights over little things had already yielded me a handful of blow offs, in my head it seemed perfectly normal that a couple would argue out of jealousy almost every week. The problem was that I had never been so paranoid as I was with Jane. Even I couldn't stand myself anymore; if it wasn't her clothing, then it was her nail polish, her hair, her male coworkers, the men at the gym. The last time it was one of her neighbors.

The guy was called Gabriel and happened to be also a childhood friend of hers — according to Jane, almost like a brother because of their mothers' closeness. A lot of contact had been lost since they had grown up and moved on with their lives, but not all of it, as they were still living in the same building and occasionally bumped into each other at the common areas of the condo or even called every now and then. The idea of such a close friend around her all the time was so disturbing to me that, every time I went to bed and turned the lights off, I just couldn't help imagining a series of things going on between them.

Trying to put an end to my obsession and constant accusations, Jane decided to introduce me to him so that I could see there was nothing to worry about. It was Sunday and the soccer match we wanted to watch wasn't on regular cable, so she said maybe we could watch pay-per-view at Gabriel's. Since it was all settled at the last minute, even before I had time to get used to the idea I was about to enter an apartment full of empty beer cans and boxes of leftover pizza. I have to admit Gabriel was much better looking than I expected: good height, toned body and a handsome face with a shiny smile and eyes that, at first, in that hard, direct light of the hall, appeared as pale gray. He was in a bright red T and beige cargo pants, clean-shaven, his light brown hair cut short. In sum, Gabriel not only had the looks but also knew how to take care of them. No doubt the package was intimidating, but on the other hand he strove to put me at ease, insisting for me to help myself to anything I needed as if I was at home. Us being there to root for the same team also helped create a certain atmosphere of camaraderie; in the second half, for instance, we all complained intensely about a penalty that wasn't flagged. And that's when something strange happened.

"Penalty, of course!" Gabriel nearly shouted, exasperated. "Worse than that, only if he shot the guy down."

While I quietly smiled at that picture, the field judge also grinned at the attacker's complaint, resuming the match. The narrator immediately made a remark about the referee's good temper and asked the commentator about his age.

"Is it just me or he sounded a bit too interested?" Gabriel asked.

"Hmmm... Maybe he meant Beautiful smile, If only he was gay too..." I said, and he laughed.

"But that doesn't mean the narrator is gay."

"How come?"

"One may occasionally be attracted to the same sex while being straight."

"Wouldn't they be bisexual, then?"

"Not necessarily."

"Do you think so? Really?"

"Why not? It can be just a curiosity." He smiled calmly. "I guess we all think about it at least once in our lifetime."

For a second, I stared back without answering him, finding it unusual that such a comment would come up between strangers. But whatever, maybe it was just his way since right after that he turned his attention to the game with the greatest ease.

From then until the end of the evening, everything was normal: we ordered food, made some small talk and then Jane and I went to her apartment to relax a bit on the sofa. As her mother slept in her own bedroom behind closed doors we sat there chatting embraced, Jane's fingers lazily playing with the hair at my neck and my hand on her thigh. Of course we ended up talking about Gabriel again — starting with the obvious (my impressions of the evening) and ending with the inevitable (a small questionnaire from paranoid me, which she patiently tried to reply). For about fifteen minutes, I was told about his parents moving to another city, his job at a law firm, his hobbies and his ex-girlfriends. This got me a little tense. The number of women in the guy's life was alarming. With such a history, it seemed very unlikely that he didn't at least think about trying something with Jane as well, even though she assured me nothing had ever happened between them. But it was almost midnight on Sunday, and if I ended up triggering another fight that would be just the worst way to start off the week. Besides, those vague caresses were getting me turned on and I wanted to enjoy the end of our Sunday — we only had sex twice at my place that weekend, Friday and Saturday night (not that we were allowed do that at her mother's, but obviously we could play a little).

I ran my hand up her thigh to the crotch and narrowed our embrace, pulling her to a slow, wet kiss. Our tongues lightly touched, slid onto one another and then hers drew back to gently lick my lips, following its contour in that languid manner of hers that always made me want to stick my tongue deeper in her mouth and get on top of her in bed. There was no bed for us there, but I did lean her on the arm of the sofa and caress her right breast under her blouse while pulling her hand to my cock.

"Here? Are you mad?"

I moved my lips away from her neck just long enough to whisper a "yes" between the strands of hair. For some reason I was actually feeling a little crazy that night, to the point of thinking about doing something rash like taking Jane's pants off right there and pulling her to my lap; but instead she stood up, drew me by the hand into her bedroom and, as soon as we entered it, closed the door. No problem with that. It wasn't like we were doing something wrong, because her mother didn't mind giving us relative privacy — apparently the door being closed was never a concern, at least not while it remained unlocked (of course the idea was not to avoid us having sex, which would be asking too much of any couple of age with ou without consent to sleep at their parents', but probably to avoid us turning the place into a hotel). It was what happened afterwards that was new.

She put a DVD on and we spooned in the narrow single bed, a blanket thrown over both of us — if her mother suddenly walked in, it would look like we were only watching TV. I put her hair to the side, leaving her neck free for my kisses, and started gliding my hand on her thigh, up and down, then her stomach, pulling her closer to me and pressing my hard cock against her ass, then her breasts, stroking them over her blouse. Jane took my hand and guided it to cup her breast under the bra, the nipple already hard between my fingers, ready to be teased with light pinches. I spun the tip of my index finger on it, moving it around in small circles, and softly squeezed it as she pushed her ass back to my cock, which was beginning to ache, trapped in the jeans.

"Put some shorts on," I asked, finding the idea deliciously bold for a risky situation in which the limits aren't very clear (at least for me since, like I said, if it depended on myself maybe we'd already be fucking in the living room).

She stood up, found a light blue baby-doll bottom in the first drawer of the closet and quickly changed in front of me, then taking off her bra under her blouse and laying back on the bed as I opened my pants and got my cock out. I lifted her leg a little to make room between her thighs, but first moved my fingers between the bottom of the baby-doll and the panties to tease her some more, finding the fabric already wet. I pushed it all to the side and started gliding my cock across the wet lips of her pussy, not parting them, just sliding on the outside, then pushing a little harder until brushing against her clit. The game had fled control. I was massaging her most sensitive spot with the tip of my cock, and we both knew that from that point on it would be almost impossible to stop and that we didn't needed much to have sex right there, with the door unlocked. My movements were expanding little by little: first only around her clit, then from her clit to her opening, brushing, then from her clit to her opening, pressing. With each stroke I went a little deeper, the curve of the tip already making way between her innner lips, nearly sinking in her wet opening. When the head went all in, I couldn't help rolling her until she stopped on her stomach with me on top.

"What if my mom walks in on us?" she whispered, her breathing a little broken.

"It's late night. She's probably soundly asleep by now," I tried to soothe her, although intimately thinking that, even if some noise came from the hallway, maybe I wouldn't be able to stop right away.

I went all the way in and started a fucking motion as she let out soft moans. We kept going like this for a few minutes, until I stopped and went back to gliding the glans on the outside, now from her clit to her asshole, teasing and lubricating everything in the way. It could be because of the position, the risk, the naughtiness of the whole situation or maybe something else; the fact is I was eager to try anal that night... She had never done that with me, we hadn't even gotten close to it — everytime I tried to touch her there, she either dodged or moved my hand away. This time she didn't object right away, and of course I took the opportunity to rub my cock on the hole for a long time and then press lightly, like I had done to her pussy minutes before. As she didn't disapprove nor encourage me, I pushed harder until feeling half the head deliciously sink in her tight little hole.

"Ah!" she moaned shortly and a little loud, a moan of pain, and in a quick motion escaped to the side. If her mother happened to be passing nearby, certainly would have heard her.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll go slower, I promise," I whispered hastely, bringing her back. I put the shaft of my cock between her ass cheeks and stayed still for a moment. Fuck, I wanted that ass so badly.

"It hurts too much," she said.

"Just one finger, then?"

That one got in with relative ease; first just the tip, then half of it, in and out, then all of it. When she seemed more relaxed, I tried again, teasing her for quite a while with the tip of my cock. After all that forbidden and risky rubbing I was getting close to coming even before entering, and on an impulsive move ended up pushing all of the head in.

"Ah," she repeated, only this time lower and without moving away, and I put my hand into her panties to gently massage her clit while waiting for her to get used to the intruder.

"You have no idea how this is turning me on," I said hoarsely in her ear, nibbling on the lobe. "Let me all the way in, baby."

She was still very tense, both hands grasping at the blanket. I waited a little longer before starting to move, but it only took three thrusts for her to ask me to stop.

"I can't," she said between clenched teeth, still in pain.

Against my will, I took my dick out and went back to her pussy, finally seeing her relax and start enjoying the fuck. I thrusted deep as she touched herself and moved along with me, involuntarily contracting her internal muscles like she always did when she was close to coming. There came a time when, if I hadn't held her hips still and took a deep breath, I'd cum first.

"Stop, stop a bit. I won't be able to hold off if you keep moving like that," I whispered in her ear as she clutched the blanket and shook beneath me in anxiety.

We started all over again. And again. And again, until, after about ten minutes, she reached a long, intense orgasm, while moaning my name. At this point I had already endured all I could and didn't need much to follow. I imagined it was a tight asshole like hers I was fucking, went even deeper and came hard, biting my lips not to groan. My heart was pounding and my breathing still took a long time to normalize.

"Wow," she whispered turning to me when I finally slipped to her side. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

Good question...

"I don't know." I put her hair behind her ear and kissed her on the cheek.

After we snuck into the guest bathroom, one at a time, we lay in bed entwined, Jane with her head resting on my chest and me with my fingers in her hair, totally relaxed. The way she had moaned my name made me believe, at least at that moment, that she was mine, all mine. But, as soon as she fell asleep and I found myself alone with my thoughts, Gabriel's shadow started prowling again, filling my mind until about 2 a.m. and throughout the next morning.

About lunch time, I asked my brother to meet me at the place where I used to eat, a quiet, cozy restaurant in the middle of the distance between our offices. Jane's plan didn't seem to be working at all.

"Even though her intentions were good, I think it only messed me up," I said. "Now that I know what he looks like, I can picture the two of them together in great detail. It's driving me mad."

"Did you notice anything strange going on between them?" Alex asked.

"Well... No... But that doesn't guarantee anything."

He slowly handled the napkin without replying right away, that reticent facial expression of a person who wonders whether they should share a certain idea or maybe already carefully tries to choose the right words to do so.

"You know, I once read an interesting article on jealousy," he finally started.

"Oh? And what did it say?" I asked between mouthfuls of macaroni.

"That the obsessively jealous never gets tired of his investigations because he subconsciously wants to find something."

"Are you saying I wanna watch my girlfriend having sex with another man? Making a cuckold out of me?" I put my fork down, an unamused laughter escaping my lips. For some reason, stories about happy cuckolds had always made me feel insanely disgusted and offended.

"Not exactly..." Alex hesitated for a second, but my incisive gaze made him finish what he had started. "They want to watch not their partner, but the third person having sex."

"That's the most absurd theory I've ever heard," I muttered looking away, finally ready to give up the matter.

And I actually gave up the matter, until one night when Jane didn't answer her home phone or mobile. It was late, later than the time that we usually talked, and it seemed very strange to me that her condo had a meeting scheduled for that very day. Somehow, I just knew that Gabriel and her met there and then went up to his apartment. This explained why half an hour later, around eleven o'clock, I was ringing the doorbell of his apartment, yelling.

"Where is she?" I shouted once the door opened while he looked at me as if he couldn't believe what was happening.

"Excuse me?" was all he managed to say.

I had already walked right past him. My intention was to search the apartment, but his reaction made me stop in the hallway and turn back. How could he be so cynical?

I measured the guy from top to bottom. The thought that he did judo, his brown band, even crossed my mind at that moment, and I frankly didn't give a damn. Maybe the guy would beat the crap out of me, but before that would happen I would do as much damage as possible. It was like being on the brink of insanity and willing to go forward. I was advancing at a steady pace while Gabriel was looking at me from below like a cornered animal. Every step I took he retreated another step, always keeping the same distance as if trying to buy me time to realize how absurd all this was.

It didn't happen. With a leap, I almost reached his eyebrow. If I could cut it and open a wound, the blood on his eye could give me an advantage, or so I thought, but he managed to avoid my punch. The backlash didn't come either. Instead, he ran toward the kitchen, maybe thinking of calling security over the intercom, which indeed would be a safer and more civilized way to solve the situation. Certainly he didn't expect me to grab him on his way and throw him against the back of the large sofa which divided the room.

"Bastard!" I muttered between clenched teeth, trying to immobilize him with a chuck-hold.

That's when I noticed something strange. I was aroused — and without a doubt he knew that too, as my hard cock pressed vigorously against him. Confused, I loosened the grip a little. My anger had been such that only now I was able to notice the big mirror in front of us, which showed Gabriel only in pajama pants and me right behind him with my hands on his half naked body. At this point, I also knew that Jane really wasn't there because, if she was, she would have been yelling and screaming at me by now.

"But what did I do?" he mumbled to my reflection. "Why..."

Before the sentence was finished, my jeans were undone. Now there was only my underwear against Gabriel's soft knit pants. Slowly, I moved my arm down, but kept my fingers around his neck like a leash. Nervous sighs on both sides. If there was one last protest, maybe I would simply leave. There wasn't. There was his hand lowering my boxers, and then his back against my racing heart. The hand wrapped me hesitantly, as I took advantage to pull the elastic of his pants just enough to bring up a piece of pink flesh. I knew I wasn't the only one there who was turned on.

That was it. On an insane impulse, I took Gabriel's hand off of me and lowered his pants halfway down his thighs to reveal straight hips and a small, tight ass, with a soft tan line below the waist and little hair. While he looked at me on the mirror, I moistened the tip of my middle finger, spread his ass cheeks with both hands and touched his hole. He sighed and widened his stance, which I took as an invitation to thrust my finger all the way in and start a slow fucking motion, adding the index finger shortly after. When he gave another sigh, I spit on the head of my cock and rubbed it on him, the mix of pre-cum and saliva making it slip straight inside to the rim. Gabriel seemed to try to dodge me, but I held him by the hips and forced about five inches more as he groaned loudly. Maybe it was a groan of pain, maybe a groan of pleasure, maybe both. It didn't really matter. Unless he gave me a sound sign of reluctance like emphatically asking me to stop or roughly trying to push me away, I'd do it anyway.

I started with short, quick strokes. Each time I thrust, he moaned, which made me feel totally in control of his reactions and consequently much more excited. The next thing I knew, I was fucking him like a demon — grabbing his hips and pounding him harder and breathing loudly and dripping sweat all over his back — as his right forearm was shaking in a feverish rhythm, his hand disappearing at the height of his narrow hips, which I insistently pushed with most of my weight with shorter and shorter gaps. Not wanting to lose contact with that body, I moved my hands under his armpits to hold him by the shoulders, pressed against his back and continued at the same pace, now with my head down and my eyes closed, lost in the moment to the point of not even realizing I wanted him even more than I wanted Jane on the night at her mothers' apartment; that, in fact, maybe I wanted him since that very night.

The climax was already very close when I looked up and our eyes met again in the mirror. From there on, I honestly cannot say for sure what took place. I can only remember my bloodshot eyes looking back at me, the reflection of my own shocked expression. Was I having sex with a guy?

I woke up completely lost, without any notion of time or space, with a 100 watt light bulb straight into my eyes. I turned my face away, stunned, but the residual image continued dancing in the direction of my gaze as I tried to recognize the room: a path of small rugs, a mahogany coffee table, a matching rack, the big mirror on the wall. Of course the room was familiar, had I not been there twice? I was waking up on Gabriel's couch at... 5:45 in the morning! Holy shit!