Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 04

Tom sat up, pulled her up beside him, rolled over her. He positioned himself between Alison's spread legs, and supported himself on outstretched arms. He probed the wet folds of her cunt. Alison kept one hand on his erection, to guide him and to feel it glide into her. She held her hand between her legs and felt his erection move through her fingers. Tom weighed down on Alison and the head of his erection slid past the inviting moist folds and entered her. He pushed deeper, and then withdrew, and pushed into her again, while she watched .. I'm letting him she thought, eyes closed dizzily, then open to hungrily take in the sight of their bodies merging.

Alison sprawled over the bed with a sense of abandon. She felt weightless. Hands gripped her hips, held her down and then there was weight on her, his body pressed down onto her, hips shifted between her spread thighs. She wondered how it was possible to feel weightless and at the same time feel pinned to the bed. She again felt an urgent tension in his body, in his muscles, in the way he moved up over her, the way he held her, his whole body taking her. He wants to ram into me - such a delicious thought drenched with desire, he wants to ram into me, he wants to possess me, she thought.

Tom supported himself on one forearm and held a naked breast with his free hand, the fingertips pressed into the soft mound. An erect nipple rose from the circle made by the thumb and forefinger. And the electric shivers that shot through her when he moved his thumb over her erect nipple, back and forth while kneading her breast. Alison held onto his arm, and looked up into his eyes. He held her gaze, but more intense, concentrated. She looked down over her own naked body under his, their abdomens pressed together their hips joined, locked together so intimately. She looked into his eyes and saw the longing, and it was because of her, she thought.

"This about the threesome, isn't it?" Tom whispered. Alison nodded, lips parted. "You wanted to act it out again, get to where you were afraid, and keep going?" She nodded again. "That's your surprise, what you wanted to try?"

"Yes, a way to convince you," and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "You have been holding back. I thought you were afraid that I'd panic again. I'm not going to. I want us to be there again, same place, and for you .. both of us .. to continue. "

"Greg being there, that was part of it, not able to let yourself go?"

"It made it .. more complicated for me. I got confused. I couldn't tell what I was responding to."

"You mean about me .."

"Yes, how you looked at me, the way you touch me."

"And the two of us alone .."

"It's easier for me to let go." Alison snaked her body under him. "Just the two of us now."

That nagging doubt, how to open completely to the physical act? How do you not hold back? She understood now. This longing she felt, to open herself, it was his hunger, his desire that she was experiencing. Not just his, it's mine, she thought. The connection had been there all along. Her own body was the connection. It was what he wanted, and it was the source of her own enjoyment. I can't open to him because I'm already there, she realized. Meet everything he does, she urged herself. Don't pull back. Immerse yourself in everything.

Tom kissed along her shoulder. "When was it?" he whispered. "When did you panic."

"I can't remember. I think we passed it," she smiled in reply. She thought of the third photo. "We were like this," she said, and wrapped her legs around his and held onto him, one hand splayed over his back the other hand gripped his neck. "Tuck your arms under me, hold me," she murmured breathlessly. His forearms were under her, his hands gripped her shoulders to pull her tight against him. "Like this," she whispered, her moist lips brushed his, then her mouth open and joined to his in a deep kiss.

Tom buried his fingers in her hair, his forehead touching hers. She half-opened her eyes and held his gaze, kissed him lightly, lips touched, parted, tongues meeting. In a sudden gesture he grasped the back of her neck and pulled her hard against him, pressing his mouth against hers. Alison groaned. She ached as another surge of arousal crashed over her her, the rough taking of her, the double penetration. She tightened her arms around him, held his head to hers, met the force of his kiss, wet mouths and probing tongues joined.

Tom grasped Alison's hair, pulled her head back, exposed her neck. He bit it, licked it, pulled her lips with his teeth, rammed into her. He held her, she felt engulfed in his embrace. Each hard thrust sent a shockwave through her, making her want more.

She pulled back, panting. "Let it go," She whispered into his ear. "Let yourself go, I want to feel it," she urged.

She stretched, grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled him tighter into her, meeting him thrust for thrust, pushing herself. She gasped, frantic. Tom raised himself on his forearms, pushing into her cunt, body fucking her, mesmerized by her quivering breasts, how she twisted under him. She again opened her eyes, and held his hungry gaze. We're past it, she thought. Alison felt free, felt an abandon, released herself into the cresting wave of an orgasm. She arched into him. "Let go," she begged. "Let it go." She tightened her arms and legs around him.

Tom held her face. "Alison. God, I've wanted you." He was swept up by the rhythm of their bodies wrapped tightly together, pushing into her. "It must have been love at first sight." He kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, held her close, drowning in the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her. He again raised himself on his forearms to watch Alison under him.

He blinked, puzzled. "Alison?"

She stared back at him, eyes wide, mouth open in surprise. Silence in the room. Nothing moved.

"Wh.. what?" she said, voice shaking.

"I've been in .." Tom began, then froze.

Alison was shaking her head, short rapid shivers. "No," she whispered, then struggled to get her forearms between their bodies. "Off .. get off." She pushed at him to move, to free herself, to get out from under him. Tom fell to one side not yet comprehending what had happened. He rolled onto his back, stunned, while Alison sat, pulled up her knees and hugged them.

She didn't know what to think. Her mind was empty; there was nothing to think about. Nowhere to start. "God damn it," she muttered.

Tom rolled onto his stomach beside her, bewildered. "I thought you understood, what this was all about." Alison took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. So fucking stupid, she scolded herself. Her mood swung between anger and frustration for several silent minutes. She looked over her shoulder at Tom, lying beside her. He cautiously looked back at her. "I thought you knew," he repeated.

Alison took another deep breath. "I thought it was something else," she replied. The seconds felt like hours. Her anger dissolved into a sense of helplessness. She fell onto her back, crossed her arms crossed over her face, to hide somewhere with her own thoughts. What thoughts? She didn't have any. She was blank.

"I thought you knew, that that's what frightened you. I was waiting for you to come around. That's what I thought you were doing. Coming back here. Telling me you felt it."

She could hear the confusion in his voice. She shook her head slowly under her folded arms, back and forth in disbelief. "No. No. I'm sorry, Tom," she replied with a more controlled tone. "I thought it was something else."

She held her face in her hands for a moment, then turned her head away, folded her arms across her waist. They remained silent. Alison stared through the bookshelves to the rest of the apartment. She felt as though she wasn't really there. She felt Tom shift his position. She turned her head briefly to see that he had rolled on his side, facing her. She looked away. She felt ill, and began rubbing her own stomach to calm herself.

Her breathing slowed. She closed her eyes, and talked to the ceiling. "When I panicked, and even when it was just the two of us, it was about me. What I saw was you responding to me but I was afraid of how I was being turned on by it. That's what I've been trying to .. I wanted to try and let go." Another long pause. "I feel so selfish. I feel like a complete idiot."

"You're not," Tom said, close to her, and he touched her, cautiously. Alison opened her eyes and glanced briefly towards him. He was on his side supporting himself on a forearm, a hand over hers.

Maybe we're in this together, she thought. We're both victims. She turned away, closed her eyes. She felt her own fingers on her skin, the slow gentle strokes of her thumb, like a feather moving back and forth, soothing her. "You're taking this calmly," she said.

"Maybe because .. now you know. I felt like I was carrying around a weight. Now it's all out in the open." He sounded pensive, lost in his own maze of misconceptions. "I almost feel relieved."

Poor Tom, she thought. A glow of warmth flowed through her. She felt sorry for him. No, that's not right. What word should I use, she pondered. Not pity. No. A nice word. Sympathy? Compassion? She looked down over her body. She thought she had been caressing herself. The thumb that feathered gently over her skin was Tom's, the hand that cupped her breast was his, and her own hand rested on his hand. It was his hand that she had been caressing. She glanced at him but he seemed far away, staring into an empty distance. They were both simply there, in contact with each other.

But now I know what he's really feeling, she thought to herself, what all this must mean to him. She felt him shift position. In an odd way she felt close to him now. Two victims sharing a disaster experience. She felt him near her. He wants to kiss me, she thought. Maybe .. maybe it would be OK to let him. She took a deep breath, her chest rose, her breast pressed into his hand and he squeezed gently. She released her breath in a soft moan, an involuntary reaction to the sense of warmth that again flowed through her. She turned to him and pressed her lips together in a self-conscious smile. A small, resigned shrug of her shoulders. Tom half-smiled in reply. Alison suddenly felt sad, with him so close, knowing how he felt. She still had her hand resting over his, holding it to her breast. She closed her eyes, felt Tom lean forward, close, felt his breath on her face, and puckered her lips to bridge the short space between them, to meet him halfway.

Tom adjusted his position, closer, their lips relaxing into a softer touch. She shifted slightly, turned towards him, her lips parted. Something tentative, searching for a safe neutral zone. Where is the proper distance, she wondered?

Their lingering kiss continued, slow, tolerant. She sensed that it could remain like this, a sort of peace treaty. They both adjusted their positions, found comfort. She didn't feel any of the intensity she'd become so accustomed to, the intensity that she'd always been looking for. She still held his hand to her breast, invited his touch.

He doesn't feel tense, Alison thought. She wondered whether his intensity had all alone really been a sort of repression, the intensity of his own struggle to hide his feelings. Now, he felt relaxed, and keeping a distance. She thought .. maybe .. it could be closer. She placed her left hand on the back of his head and gave a slight pull, eased a fraction closer, still relaxed. Another gentle wave of warmth washed over her.

He leaned over her and she felt his hard cock pressed against her thigh. Does he want to? He knows that I know. Would it make a difference to him? If I know how he feels, and permit it, let him take me, would it feel better for him? Would I feel a difference? She wondered.

She felt it, hard, pressed against her. If he wants to, I'll let him, she decided. She gave him a small nudge with her leg, waited. Tom hesitated, then moved over her. She spread her legs to make room for him, felt his erection brush over her thigh, could feel it probe her. Tom moved his hand from her breast, positioned himself, and pushed slowly into Alison's moist cunt. She shivered against him, a short gasp when he pushed deeper.

The dark room hung about them, silent, but for the wet sound of their coupling, and of the occasional protest from the bed's wooden frame. Alison heard, as much as she felt, the steady slow rhythm of their bodies moving together, close and intimate, bodies conversing in the dark room.

Alison didn't know where his comfort zone was, and she relaxed, to let him do as he pleased. She had been expecting - wanting - the intensity. The intensity wasn't there. She wanted to go further, to let him release his desire in hot deep kisses and in wild and hard fucking. But he avoided eye contact. He leaned over her breasts, circled her nipples with his tongue, gently pulled at them with his teeth, sucked them. She sensed that he wanted to please her, and she wanted to help. Nothing frantic, but slow and deliberate. She moved with him.

"I'm going to come," she gasped. She wanted him to know. When she began to peak she struggled to hold herself still, to let Tom carry her over the edge. And when the wave crashed down on her she held her breath, held herself rigid, waited. Only when the wave surged up over her, like surf on a beach, rushing up the shore, did she let go and pushed into Tom again and again to meet his thrusts into her, grunting softly, and let the wave dissipate, sink into the sand and disappear.

Tom continued a slow rhythm through her orgasm, and continued while she lay under him. "Are you close?" She whispered, her mouth close to his ear. She felt him nod. She waited, and held him, and moved her body to meet his thrusts, and felt him come in ragged spasms, felt his weight on her when he collapsed.

* * * * *

Minutes later, he was beside her, on his stomach, raised on his forearms, pensive. Alison lay beside him on her back, legs up, feet planted on the mattress. They were both silent.

What just happened, she wondered? She rubbed her face with both her hands, then folded them over her breasts, while her breathing returned to normal.

Tom finally again made eye contact. "You could still come over," he said.

Alison shook her head slowly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? You enjoy it, don't you?"

Alison winced. "Of course I do. But it's different now."

"Yes, but .. if you enjoy it so much, enough that you've wanted to return, I figured that you .. maybe Greg wasn't .."

"Don't you dare!" Alison flared at him. "Don't you dare say anything about him!" She pushed herself up and sat on bed's edge, feet on the floor. "Just .. don't," she repeated, struggled to control her voice. She hugged herself, tried to stop herself from shivering. Tom was stunned into silence. "God only knows why he puts up with me," she said, almost to herself, and tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with the palms of her hands.

"Sorry," Tom stammered. "I only thought .."

Alison turned to him. "You only thought .. you're only trying to justify your fantasy," she interrupted.

Tom frowned, forehead furrowed in hurt resentment. "You told me that you couldn't open up to me with Greg there."

Alison planted her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands, struggled to calm herself. "I meant my feelings for him were confusing me."

She stopped, and raised her head, surprised by a new awareness.

"So that's what it was," she said aloud, talking to herself. "I was embarrassed, being so turned on with someone else. I didn't know how he'd react. Now I know he's OK with it."

"You mean he knows you're here?"

Alison remembered Tom, and turned to him. "Yes, of course he knows I'm here," she replied, irritated.

"How was I supposed to know? I thought you were trying to choose."

"Fine, I can see that," Alison conceded. "Considering your feelings, how it must have looked to you." They both remained silent for a long minute. "Tom, we both made the same mistake," she continued, taking another deep breath. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. But we both made the same mistake."

Tom sat up, cross-legged on the bed. "My feelings aren't a mistake."

"I saw something. I misinterpreted it. I responded to what I thought it was. That was my mistake. You saw me responding and thought it was to how you felt. That was your mistake."

"What if I hadn't say anything? It could be like last time, and the time before that."

"Tom, it won't. I could tell something wasn't right. I wanted to figure it out. What just happened now proves it."

Tom stared silently at the mattress, then up to Alison. "I still want to be with you. If you enjoy being here, then why not continue? I won't mention how I feel anymore."

"Tom. It won't work. I never saw this as something regular. There's no reason for me to come here anymore." She saw that the remark stung him. "Tom," she said more gently. "Come on. You don't really love me."

"It's not for you to tell me how I feel."

"But think about it. How often have we been together after the threesome? Three times, including now. That's all. Three evenings in .. what .. 6 weeks, and two of those in the last 10 days. Think about it. We've hardly even talked with each other. What have you been doing the rest of the time, except attach your feelings to a story you've been imagining?"

They continued to look at each other, both sitting cross-legged on the bed. Suddenly, as if admitting defeat in a staring contest, Alison began to giggle and put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing outright. "It's absurd," she said with a grin.

"That's not fair. I can't help what I feel," Tom replied testily.

"That's not what I meant," she smiled, and reached over to rest a hand on his knee. "I mean, look at us. We're both sitting here without a stitch on, having this serious conversation about feelings."

After a moment, Tom grudgingly returned the smile, and shook his head. "Yeah, maybe a bit absurd." Again, silence, both of them absorbing the situation. Alison met his eyes and smiled again. Tom responded to the positive flow of energy. "We can pretend, can't we?"

Alison saw what he was doing. The situation was hopeless. "You can't pretend," she replied, shaking her head. "You can't live your feelings in a fantasy, Tom. It's not good for you." She stood, awkwardly aware of being naked in front of him. "I'm sorry, there's no easy way out. We're just .. done."

She went to the bathroom, closed the door, and sat on the toilet to have a pee. She began shaking, on the verge of being overwhelmed by too many conflicting emotions barely under control. She dreaded needing to go back out and dress, and then leave. Dumb, dumb, I should have taken my clothes with me, she chastised herself. A few more minutes, a voice encouraged her. Just a few more minutes, it repeated. She stood, toughened herself, and stepped out into the apartment.

She was hit by another unanticipated emotion. This time, relief, because Tom had already pulled on his pants and busied himself in the kitchen area while Alison's clothes waited for her on the bed. Damn it, she whispered to herself, her eyes watering. She needed to pause and collect herself yet again, not wanting him to misinterpret the tears. She had to keep herself under control and dressed slowly, to give herself the time she needed. Then, quickly, to the couch to collect her shoes, and jacket and shoulder bag.

Tom waited at the door, looking more embarrassed than anything else, she thought.

A few more seconds. They stood, eyes made brushing contact. Alison smiled weakly. There were no more words to say. She left, heard the door close behind her as she descended the three flights of stairs to the street outside.