Those White Jeans Ch. 05

"Honey." Lisa's hand was on my left shoulder. "Hon." She gently shook me.

I was awake. I opened my eyes.

"Hey, we need to go," Lisa whispered. She was standing, leaning over me, fully clothed, her faded dark gray baseball cap pulled low. I couldn't see her eyes.

I looked beyond her and to my left, recognizing where I was. The television was off. The only light came from the kitchen area. We were alone in the room.

"I'll get you some water."

Lisa went to the kitchen. I pulled up my underwear and khakis, rebuttoning them, then tossed aside the blankets. I picked up the paper towels filled with my cum and went straight to the bathroom to clean up. Afterward I met Lisa in the kitchen, took the glass of water from her and drank it down quickly. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. We looked at each other. She somehow appeared both relaxed and concerned. I don't know how I appeared. I set the empty glass in the sink and we both made our way to the door, where we put on our shoes, and then we left.

The walk back to the hotel was short. The streets were mostly quiet. Neither of us found any words to speak. In the hotel room we took turns in the shower, Lisa first. When I came out from my shower, she was already asleep in the bed. Soon I laid in the bed, too. I felt the space between us, but I fell asleep quickly.

In the midst of a very sexual dream I awoke in the daylight. I was laying on my side, facing Lisa's side of the bed. But she wasn't there. She was down toward the foot of the bed, under the covers, sucking my dick, her left hand gripping my right ass cheek. I felt her bare skin against my legs. A hard nipple pressed against my thigh.

I rolled onto my back. Lisa pulled off the covers and sat upright, slid toward me, threw a leg over me, and inserted my dick into her. She placed her hands gently on my chest and began to ride me slowly.

"We got pretty drunk last night, didn't we?" she asked, smiling. She looked down at me from the lower parts of her eyes.

I nodded. Immediately I knew that, if she was going to start the conversation with that question, then she was about to either lie to me, or she was about to field excuses for her behavior. In any case, it was dishonest.

"Did I win all those games of ping pong?"

I didn't answer. Inside, my anger grew. She either suspects that I was drunk enough that I don't remember her fucking Chris, or she's about to tell me that she doesn't remember doing any of it.

"You don't know, either?" She ground her pussy hard on my pubic bone. "Hmmmh...that feels so good." Her hands slid off my chest as she leaned back and quickened her pace. She laid her hands flat on her own chest, pinching her nipples between the base of her middle and ring fingers near her palms. Then she rubbed and kneaded them at pace with her pelvic movements.

That was the end of the conversation? This fucking cunt is OK with lying to me about last night? In my imagination I pictured clearly her last orgasm, her chest rising toward the ceiling, her head thrown back, and her long blond hair fanned out around her, as she allowed Chris to deliberately cum deep inside her. Just a few hours ago his cock was shooting stream after stream of cum exactly where my cock is now, inside this tight...wet...CUNT!

"Mmmm...fuck yeah," Lisa moaned. She ground into me harder.

I lost it. In an instant I threw her off me onto her side of the bed, then somehow hoisted myself over her, my feet landing on the floor by her side. I grabbed her legs near the ankles, swung her sideways, and flipped her onto her belly. My left hand pushed her down hard between her shoulder blades as my right hand immediately guided my cock right back into her pussy. She didn't resist. With her body bent over the side of the bed, pinned down, I fucked her furiously.

"Tell me, you fucking cunt!" I growled. My right hand spanked her right ass cheek. It didn't hold back. "Tell me!" It spanked her again. "Tell me!" Again. And again. And again. I fucked her and screamed at her and my right hand spanked her ass. Then my right hand grabbed a fistful of Lisa's long blond hair and my left hand took its turn to spank her ass. "Say it!" Smack! "Say it!" Smack! "Tell me, you fucking cheating cunt!" My right hand pulled on her hair, forcing her head back. Her mouth swung open as her arching neck pulled her lower jaw down. I rammed my cock into her as hard as I could over and over again. I wanted it to hurt.

"Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!" She was either having an orgasm, or she was about to.

I couldn't win. I wanted to cause her pain. I wanted her to feel how she hurt me. But instead she was getting off on it. My eyes welled up with tears. My stomach burned. I was defeated. Weakly, I demanded again, "Just say it! Tell me!" I slammed my hips against her ass with everything I had, again and again and again. "Say it...Say it...Say it."

"Uuh!...Uuh!...Uuh!...We fucked!...Uuh!...We fucked!...Chris fucked me!...He fucked me!...We fucked right in front of you!...Uuh!...And it was the best fuck I've ever had!...It was the best fuck I've ever had!"

Lisa began to sob, but I didn't care. I just kept pounding her.

"I made him cum in me!...Uuh!...I wanted it!...Uuh!...Chris came in me!...And there was so much cum...He came so much inside me."

Lisa's orgasm was replaced by crying. I let her cry and let go of her hair, then pressed my thumbs into those cute dimples in her lower back and clawed both her hips, signaling to this cunt that she's not going anywhere until I'm done. Soon my own orgasm hit, and for the first time without a condom, I didn't pull out. I unloaded completely inside her. Pussy never felt so good as it did in that moment.

As my orgasm subsided, Lisa continued to cry, but she didn't try to get out from under me. I slowly pushed my cock in and out of her pussy, just enjoying the feeling of a tight pussy filled with a pool of cum for as much time as I was able, until I finally lost my erection. When I did withdraw, she still didn't move. I went to the bathroom to clean up, then brought the tissue box to Lisa. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she wiped her crotch before getting up and going to the bathroom herself. I laid down in bed again.

In a few minutes, Lisa returned and laid down next to me in the bed, facing away from me, then reached back to pull my arm over her. She wanted to spoon. I was OK with that. A few minutes more, and Lisa spoke again, softly.

"Did you cum? Last night, I mean. Did you cum?"

She didn't know. I guess the rear cushion of the sofa was quite effective at absorbing my orgasmic moans, or else she simply couldn't hear me over her own orgasm. And I guess she didn't see the wad of cum soaked paper towels in my hand when I went to the bathroom to clean up. I didn't answer her.

"I understand you don't want to talk to me. I deserve your anger. I fucked a guy I just met and then tried to cover it up. I just want to know if you're angrier that I let Chris fuck me or that I attempted a cover-up."

I was ready to answer. "You know I saw it. We were looking directly at each other while he fucked you on the floor. Remember? You even smiled at me. For you to pretend this morning that it never happened is a fucking lie, and it's absolutely infuriating!"

I couldn't help but raise my voice at her again. She remained calm and silent, absorbing my anger. I breathed and regained my cool before continuing. "I don't remember ever catching you in a lie before. If you have lied to me, I never had a clue. But right now I'm really shaken, because if I didn't know what I know already, I would never have guessed you were lying to me. You're a good fucking liar; did you know that? And you know what that does?"

"Yes."

"Damn right you do! How am I able to trust someone who demonstrates real skill in lying, and who is so able and willing to cover up something so potentially life-altering as an affair?"

Obviously a rhetorical question, Lisa didn't answer. I didn't have much more to say for the time being, so we both spooned in silence. My mind began to replay scenes from last night. I kept seeing images of Lisa's crotch grinding up and down Chris's leg on the dance floor, images of her face as she had orgasms, the image of Chris's face as he came, and the image of his wet cock sliding in and out of Lisa's pussy. I became conscious of my flaccid cock against both of Lisa's little ass cheeks as we laid in bed. I looked down and saw the red imprint of my hand on the side of her ass where I spanked it. It must be on fire right now.

"From what I have heard," Lisa began, "when straight girls masturbate, they tend to focus on the feeling of it, and there's often no good reason to associate a boy or sex with a boy in order to reach an orgasm. Straight boys, on the other hand, usually have to fantasize about a particular girl or sex with that particular girl to reach an orgasm. I think we talked about that before, right?"

Again I didn't answer her, not because I was angry, but because I was preoccupied with trying to figure out where this conversation was about to go.

"Anyway, I'm like those other straight girls. You've seen me masturbate twice, but I have masturbated in privacy plenty of times long before we met and plenty of times since we met. And it never had anything to do with you or any other boy." Lisa paused for a moment to choose her next words.

"I hardly slept last night," she said. "I've been awake for hours. I did fall asleep right after coming to bed, but not for long. You were asleep when I woke up. I started replaying last night in my head. I imagined Chris and the sex we had. Before I knew it, my hands were sliding across my belly, and then my thighs, back up to my chest and nipples, and then down to my crotch. Right here in this bed, while you slept next to me, I fantasized that Chris was fucking me again. I imagined my fingers were his cock as I fingerfucked myself into another mind-blowing orgasm. You slept right through it. As far as I can remember, that was the first time I masturbated while thinking about a particular boy, and that was also the first time I masturbated while imagining that I was actually getting fucked."

Lisa paused again, probably expecting some reaction from me, but I certainly didn't know what to say.

"Afterward I thought about it a lot. It ties into something else I've thought about from time to time over the last several years, something I've been trying to learn and understand about myself. I've never talked to you or anyone else about it, but I suppose it's relevant, and if there is anyone to tell, it's you." Lisa fell silent, debating whether to say whatever was on her mind, but then let it out.

"I experience love and lust separately. They are distinct feelings for me, and they are actually quite unrelated, in my experience. That may not seem like such a profound statement, but I don't think most people feel the same way I do, and there are some consequences of it that matter. I've heard people say that the 'way' they love their family is different from the 'way' they love their friends, and both of those 'types' of love are different from the 'type' of love they have for their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, or wives. The language they use indicates that they don't make the distinction between the feelings of love and lust that I do. To my mind, they don't allow themselves to admit they even have lustful feelings because lust is dirty, and describing different 'types' of love is a mental construct they use to enable the omission of lust from their inventory of possible feelings. Whether they know it or not, it's a lie, I think. They're lying to themselves.

"There are friends who you can love as much or more than you love family members. There are boyfriends or girlfriends that you can love a little, but lust a lot. There are husbands or wives that you can love a lot, but lust so little. And none of these feelings are static. Love can grow and recede, over time or very quickly. Lust can also grow and recede, also over time or very quickly. That's how friends become lovers, and that's how spouses become inconvenient roommates or worse."

I listened to Lisa carefully, and I couldn't help but agree with everything she said. In my life I have had some similar thoughts, but I never put them together, and I doubt I could explain it so clearly as she did now.

"I fell in love with you while we were dating, and in addition to that, quite separately, I loved how we fucked. My love for you has nothing to do with the way you look or the sex we have. Over the last few years, my love for you has only grown. I am also pleased to report that, quite amazingly, my lust for you has also grown steadily over the years. You are very attractive physically, and I love the sex we have."

I thought I knew where this was headed. "And Chris?"

"Yes. To the point. Yesterday we had not yet had this conversation, and we didn't have the history we have now, this morning. So much has changed already. I'll try to explain this through that 'lens of yesterday,' and I hope you will keep that perspective in mind.

"I did my best to hide my attraction to Chris, but I suspected you could see it right from the start no matter how much I tried to keep it a secret, especially because it was mutual. When we were at the pub and he asked you if you'd like to come along to his friend's place, I was worried about your answer. The way he asked it - it was so obvious - I was sure you thought that what he was really asking for was more time with me, specifically. And you agreed to it. I felt a sense of relief because you probably suspected that the flirting between us was more intense than anything you've seen me involved in before, and I was afraid I had finally made you jealous and angry.

"And then at Bill and Jeff's..." Lisa trailed off for a moment, but then found her train of thought. "It is unlike you to be careless about how much you drink around strangers, so at Bill and Jeff's apartment, I knew something wasn't right when your beer drinking accelerated. I asked myself what you are doing, and the only answer I could come up with is that you wanted to give yourself an excuse to pass out, allowing Chris time alone with me. It's the only answer that could follow after the way Chris asked you to come when we were at the pub. Once I realized that, I figured that maybe you knew more about what was going on between Chris and me than I thought. Putting it all together in my head, I was unable to draw any other conclusion than this: When you agreed that we should come along to Chris's friend's apartment, you were really agreeing to let me fuck Chris. You wanted me to fuck Chris. Honey...I was instantly wet. I could hardly concentrate on my ping pong game after that thought.

Somehow my cock was becoming hard again, and it was pressing against Lisa's bare ass. She must have known, but she ignored it, because this conversation was too important to be interrupted by an acknowledgement of my hard cock.

"I was pretty sure that you also wanted to see it, otherwise you wouldn't have gone to the trouble of drinking to pretend to pass out; you would have simply found a way to leave me alone with him. But I couldn't just initiate sex with him right in front of you. He had already shown that he is OK with messing around with me behind your back, but he might have been completely turned off to the idea of doing anything in front of you. I had to keep up the illusion for Chris that you were oblivious. I guess you know the rest."

"Why did you go to the bathroom, then?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. He surprised me with that decision. He just took me by the hand and led me away. If I had protested, it would have been strange. So in a brainstorm I decided to purposely make him cum before we fucked and make it appear accidental. Besides, I already knew he wouldn't have lasted long inside me, so making him cum in the bathroom would allow me to enjoy more time fucking him in the living room later."

Her casual referrals to "fucking" Chris were getting me turned on. I reached down and began stroking my hard cock as I pressed its head against her ass cheek. Still she ignored it. "I saw you on the dance floor with him," I told her.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you have an orgasm on the dance floor."

She turned and looked into my eyes for a moment, deliberating her next words. "What did you see before that?"

I had surprised her with my comment, which surely cautioned her to be forthcoming in her retelling. "Just your flirtations," I answered.

"Well, for the sake of honesty, I'll tell you there was more." She turned away from me again to resume our spooning. "It started during our very first dance, when you went to the bar to get a beer. As soon as you walked away, Chris pulled me further into the crowd. It was a clear signal to me that he wanted me to be naughty with him. I sent the wrong signal by not discouraging it. A few minutes later he put his arms around me and pulled me close to him, then told me very matter-of-factly, 'I think we should fuck.' I couldn't believe he had the guts to say that, so as a reflex I asked him, 'What did you say?' And he leaned down a little closer and repeated it. I didn't know what to do, so I just ignored him. I looked at the faces of people around us as we danced, but started to become very conscious of how close he and I were dancing together, and started to feel like he and I were, in a way, all alone there. A few seconds later, he leaned down close, his lips brushing against my ear as he said it again: 'I think we should fuck.' Then he kissed my neck. I suppose he was waiting for an answer. I didn't know how to respond verbally, meanwhile my body was responding to him physically. I had to pull myself away. I came over to you soon after that."

"But then you went right to the bar and met up with him again. I saw you sitting on the bar stool," I said.

"You saw that, too, huh? Although there wasn't much for you to see; we were just talking."

"He was standing between your legs as you sat." I held the image in my mind of her legs in those tight white jeans, the denim wrinkled where her legs met her ass because they were spread so wide.

"Yes. Yes, he was. I did go to the bar only with the intention of getting a drink, and I was standing there waiting to be served, but then saw him approach the bar on the far end. I watched him, admiring his good looks, and then he saw me looking at him and smiled. I think that's when I also had the thought cross my mind that, yeah, maybe 'we should fuck.' I admit I was pretty turned-on and not thinking very clearly. It was that combination of the alcohol in me, having just danced with him so closely, and his bold statements suggesting that we fuck. I don't think I had any real intention of actually fucking him at the time. It just felt good to entertain the fantasy. So I walked over to his side of the bar and sat down on the stool next to him, spreading my legs around him just to drive him nuts."

"And then he walked away. Why did he do that?"

"He didn't really just walk away. There's more. I had asked him, just as an acknowledgement of his earlier statement, and as a challenge, 'How do you suppose we could fuck?' I meant it mostly as an over-the-top flirtatious question, a sort of joke, but he took it seriously. And he seemed to already have it figured out. His answer was to smile and tell me he would come and get me for another dance in a few minutes. That's when he walked away, probably to go talk with Bill and Jeff. And that's also when I started taking it seriously - the idea of actually having sex with him. It made me wet."

"So when he came over and said he was about to leave, but wanted one more dance with you before he left, you already knew."