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Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 01

By: ISKwest



From author:

This is a story in 4 chapters. All chapters are already written, and I will post them, one at a time, over the next few days. The story is based on three shorter stories I wrote a couple of years ago, and so might be familiar to some readers. I rewrote and combined the earlier stories into the first 2 chapters. The last 2 chapters are completely new.

This story fits several categories. I chose 'Erotic Couplings' as being the most comprehensive. 'First Time' and 'Group sex' also fit this chapter's content.

======================

"You did what?" Alison turned sharply to Gregory, eyebrows raised. She was in a half-sitting position, back against a pillow, knees up and feet planted on the mattress.

"I took a few photos." Gregory repeated. He was sitting upright in bed, his back against the wall.

"But .. when?" She was already trying to remember.

"Well, obviously, when I had the time to."

Alison searched, and found the moment. She pressed her lips together. "Yes. Obviously then. But .. why haven't you shown them to me?"

"I thought I'd let some time pass, let you recover, and surprise you with them later. But something's been on your mind for the past couple of days, and I had the feeling that I just might have captured what's been bothering you."

She stirred uneasily. "Nothing's bothering me," she said with a pout of denial. She held his skeptical look for few moments, then relented. "OK. Something's on my mind." She turned away, thoughtful. "I'm just confused about something."

"In that case I just happen to have some photos that you should have a look at. They might help you organize your feelings."

"Is this a therapy session?"

"Maybe. What do you say? Want to see some hot pictures of you having sex?"

His playful tone reassured her and made room for curiosity, which sent a tingle of anticipation through her. She sat up, giggled. "OK, where are they?"

"I have them on my laptop. I'll show you just three that I've edited." Gregory got out of bed to get the laptop from the desk across the room, powered it up and returned to the bed.

"What did you edit?"

"Just some cropping, to define the subject matter."

"Sounds like doctoring to me," she said doubtfully.

"No, nothing changed. Call it framing, to focus the viewer's attention."

Alison sat cross legged on the bed, beside Gregory who had his back against the wall, the laptop balanced on his thighs.

"Ready for the first one?"

"You bet," she replied. She combed her fingers through her long light brown hair, pulled it back over her shoulders, then straightened her size too large t-shirt that she usually wore to bed.

Gregory opened the directory where he stored the photos and double clicked on Alison01.jpg.

The first photo was taken from the foot of a bed taken from over the shoulder of someone mostly in shadow. Alison was stretched out on her back, left arm over her head, right arm extended beside her, fingers spread. Her long hair fanned out over a pillow. The light source, low and to her left, cast shadows that accentuated the curves of her body. There was a subtle tension in her posture, the moment's registration having caught her writhing, back slightly arched. She bit her lip, eyes closed and brow furrowed in an apparent wince of pain, contradicted by an upturn at the corners of her mouth, a hint of a smile. 

Alison stared at the screen, not moving, silent. Gregory watched her, waited for a reaction. Her eyes flicking from one part of the screen image to another. She squinted slightly, a habit of hers when she was concentrating, then her expression softened into a lips-parted sense of fascination with what she was observing.

"Is that what I look like?" she finally asked.

"Sometimes," Gregory answered. Alison said nothing. "So, can you remember the moment, what you were thinking?" Gregory prompted.

She glanced at him with a wry smile, then back to the screen image. "I wasn't .. not exactly thinking, more like observing."

"You're feeling good, that's for sure."

Her insides went liquid. Her cheeks flushed, partly from how her body reacted to the photo, partly in embarrassment that her body reacted that way. "What do you expect, considering what you had just been doing to me? You got me really worked up. You don't have a photo of that by any chance?"

"No," he grinned in reply. "I was busy."

"Yes. You were."

She turned back to the screen. The teasing mood faded as she tried to reconstruct .. many feelings. She had felt relief, a release from the nervousness that had had her on edge for hours. She was glowing from the orgasm that her enacted fantasy had delivered. She was feeling the surprise of how the situation had evolved in a direction she had not thought about, and felt a different kind of nervous anticipation, hypnotized by it. Alison raised her hands from her lap and held her cheeks in her palms, a sense of unease cast a shadow over her mood. She looked back to Gregory.

"Don't worry about it," he said, almost reading her mind. "Reality doesn't always unfold in the way we half-plan it. Besides, a threesome doesn't always mean three. It can be serial two at a time."

"I know," she admitted and accepted his hand tousling her hair, turned her cheek to rest against his arm. "I had been giving all my attention to playing out my fantasy and suddenly I found myself in a different situation. I was caught off guard. I think I was somehow both in it, and outside of it watching myself react. It became .. I don't know .. I was overwhelmed by it."

"That's what you get for having theories," Gregory said, putting an arm around her, giving her an encouraging squeeze. "What was it again?"

She turned her head and studied him a moment, wondered if he was mocking or teasing. Teasing, she decided, and played along. "It's like this," she began, straightened her t-shirt, then folded her arms. "I really love how your penis feels in my mouth. But I can't orgasm just from having a penis in my mouth, no matter how worked up I get. My vagina might be the center for having orgasms but it cannot feel the way my mouth can. Therefore," she paused for dramatic emphasis.

"And since medical science isn't advanced enough to transplant a penis to where my nose is," Gregory interrupted. Alison broke down in an wave of nervous laughter, bent forward over her crossed legs. After a minute she stopped, looked up at Gregory, imagined a flaccid penis dangling from where his nose was, and again lost control. It took several moments for her to calm down enough to keep things to a giggle. 

"Therefore," she continued, "the only solution would be to have a second penis available so that I could experience the joys of an erect penis with my mouth while having intercourse at the same time."

"And it turns out that reality had more on offer than just that isolated fantasy image."

It did, she realized. With her mind and body already throbbing with an after-glow of an orgasm, she had looked down over her naked body, her knees raised and thighs spread, and watched a man position himself between them, and push into her. Her neck arched, eyes widened, throat constricted in a short gasp of delight. He eased his erection deeper and deeper into her. She closed her eyes, awed by the physical rawness of it, and by the exquisite heat that flamed up through her like a separate living thing, pulsing, growing, engulfing her. She winced, sprawled over the bed, and relinquished herself to it all.

"Yes, of course," she struggled. "I knew abstractly that there could be more to it. You're not just suddenly there in the fantasy, you have to get to that point, and it could evolve into something different. But I just hadn't thought it out. Change places, maybe that, so I could have you at both ends. I was distracted by everything else that was happening and how it was making me feel." And when it began to happen, the waves of her own sexual arousal lifted her up and swept her out of the confines of her fantasy image and into this other .. other .. her shoulders sagging.

"So have we got photo number one settled?" Greg said. "Physical abandon. Would that do as a title?"

"I suppose so. But it's not only the physical sensations." She stared at the mix of feelings on her face. "Nothing really different in the physical part. I was turned on by being in the situation. It's about the situation. You know, not only the touch, but how you interpret the touch?"

"Then, extending the boundaries of physical enjoyment." Gregory reduced the size of the window containing the 'physical enjoyment' photo and dragged it to the left edge of the screen. The pointer hovered over the filename Alison02.jpg. "Ready for the second one?" Without waiting for an answer, he double clicked.

The second photo was taken from the side of the bed just above the top of the mattress. Alison was again on her back. The framing was tighter and showed only her head and torso. The man was on top of her, supporting himself on one forearm and the hand nearest the camera held a naked breast, the fingertips pressed into the soft mound. An erect nipple rose from the circle made by the thumb and forefinger. Alison held onto his arm, and was looking up into his the eyes. Her lips were parted, as if she had just gasped. The man held her gaze, but more intense, concentrated.

Alison stared at the screen. Her eyes squinted, her face expressionless. She took a deep breath, started to say something, stopped. She kept coming back to the fingers pressed into her breast. The way she was being ... Absently, she said, "I didn't even know you were so close."

Gregory clicked his tongue. "I wasn't that close. The camera has a zoom. Besides, when you have a 9 mega pixel photo you can crop it down to a computer screen size and still have good resolution."

"Oh." Those people in the photo, what are they thinking, she wondered. She felt her heart pounding, stomach tightening. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, pressed them together. 

"That's what I mean by editing the photo," Gregory said. "It lets you highlight the subject matter. I thought the eye contact adds a dimension to the 'physical enjoyment' of the first photo. Should we call this one 'intimacy'?"

Alison thought she heard Gregory ask, so what's this one about, but she was already trying to remember. That sense of abandon, sprawled over the bed, it felt weightless, and there were hands gripping her hips, holding her down and then there was weight on her, his body pressed down onto her, his hips shifting between her spread thighs. She sensed an urgent tension, a physical sexual 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. She could feel the tension in his hands moving over her, not in a soft caress, not rough but not .. not gentle, exploring the shape of her, over her hip, her waist. The way he kneaded her breast, the way he explored the feel and shape and weight of it in his hand. She sensed how it affected him, in the way he continued to thrust into her and withdrew, she could feel his whole body quivering with self-control. Yes, that's what it was. He's feeling this way because of me, she thought. I'm doing this to him, she thought, and she shifted and twisted and with each movement she tried to open herself to something emanating from him. He wants to ram into me, she thought. And the electric shivers that shot through her when he moved his thumb over her erect nipple, back and forth while kneading her breast. Her vagina contracted, gripped him, and he paused from his thrusting and made a reply.

Alison turned to Gregory, frowning defensively. "It's not intimacy. Don't make it something it isn't. You can make anything of a fraction of a second photo. It's not as if we were gazing longingly into each other's eyes for minutes on end. It came and went," Alison replied.

"So what was it?"

"He did something. He stimulated my nipples, which made my vagina contract. And he answered by flicking his erection inside me. You know what I mean. You do it all the time."

"And?"

"It brought me back into the situation. I was self-absorbed in all those physical sensations I was having."

"Photo one."

"Yes. And I didn't like that. I wanted it more personal in some way." She winced in frustration. "Not personal. That's not the right word .. just .. I don't know .. just .. acknowledging that the other person is there, part of my experience. So he did that and it surprised me and I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "

"That's when I took the photo."

"I don't know when you took the photo. Maybe. The eye contact was just saying I'm here and enjoying this. That's all." Alison uncrossed her legs and leaned against the wall beside Gregory, head rested against his arm. She continued to examine the details on the screen, the way her lips were parted, the dimpled shadows made by his fingers pressed into the soft mound of her breast. It was so tactile, the way he massaged it. And all the while the weight of him on her, and that insistent slow thrusting. She looked down over her own naked body under his, their abdomens pressed together their hips joined, locked together so intimately. She wanted to open herself to something but .. we can't get any closer physically, that thought came to her. She looked into his eyes and saw the hunger, and it was because of her, she thought. It was as if her feelings weren't her own, but really him communicating a desperate sexual desire through his movement. She looked into his hungry eyes, and ran her fingers over the arm that was grasping at her, to communicate with touch and feel that she understood and that it was fine. 

"I just wanted something mutual, an acknowledgement."

"In other words, there was a boundary crossed?"

"Don't 'other words' me. I'm trying to understand something." She replied, a nervous edge to her tone.

"I know. I'm just giving you an idea to consider."

"In that case, no, I didn't cross any boundary. It's just different." She hesitated. "OK, yes, in a way it is something added to the first photo. I'm in my own world in the first photo, something egocentric about it. So, in one way or another I wanted to open up and make it feel more .. human or friendly .. personal keeps coming to mind but .."

"Right. OK." Gregory repeated the reduce-and-move procedure on photo 2, placing it in the middle of the screen to the right of photo 1. "What do we call this one? If you don't like the word 'intimacy', what about 'Engagement', 'Sharing the moment'? "

Alison remained silent, still staring at the screen. Gregory put his arm around her and gave another encouraging squeeze. "Hey. You all right with this? We're just laying out the pieces of the puzzle." She turned to him, raised her head and pressed her lips hard against his, then took a deep breath.

"Ready?" Gregory double clicked on Alison03.jpg.

The third photo was taken from the same place as the second but from a higher angle, to capture the bodies of two people entwined in a tight embrace.

Alison felt her stomach knot up, and absently ran her left hand over her abdomen to sooth the sick feeling. She felt an infidelity. But Gregory had had taken the picture himself, had edited it, was there the entire time. This doesn't make sense, she thought.

In the third photo Alison was again on her back, the man's body covering hers, her legs now raised and wrapped around his. His forearms were under her, his hands gripped her shoulders to pull her tight against him. Her head was bent sideways, her face partly hidden by his head, her mouth open and joined to his in a deep kiss, one hand splayed over his back the other hand gripping his neck. 

"I call this one 'Alison enjoying her threesome'," Gregory said, then winced from the elbow digging into his ribs.

"That. Is. Not. Fair."

"Sorry. I was just trying to take the edge off .. but .. OK."

"Besides," she continued, trying to adopt his mood, "where was the photographer when he wasn't taking pictures?"

"You got me there. Next time we'll have to invite a fourth person to the threesome."

"That strategy will only lead to overcrowding, even if there was a next time." She paused. 

"Please be serious," she pleaded, touching his arm.

"OK. Sorry." Gregory looked back at the photo. "So, what's happening here?"

The knot in her stomach tightened. What's happening? Is it two people having intercourse? A photo of two people having sex? A photo of two people fucking each other? That's the easy part. She shivered. She needed distance.

"I'm surprised the photo isn't blurred, considering," she said.

"It is. You don't notice it when the image is reduced this much. At full resolution parts of it look like a triple exposure."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." Gregory enlarged the window and the entwined bodies stretched from one side of the screen to the other. Alison again felt her insides turn liquid. Gregory clicked on 200% zoom and the image expanded into a nebulous region of tan-tinted skin and crumpled sheets. He played around with the scroll bars until the image centered on their joined hips. While the edges of Alison's raised legs were only slightly blurred, there were three overlapping images of the body thrusting between her upraised legs.

For a moment Alison was again drawn into a fascination with the image. She cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, that does show what's going on. Almost artistic."

It was the way he was thrusting, his abdomen never leaving contact with hers, keeping that pressure of body against body while he rolled his hips into her. And the alternating tempo, a slow withdrawal followed by a rapid and deep re-entry. It felt like something relentlessly building in her. He had spread his knees for leverage, gripping her shoulders to lock her in place, pulling her body to him, and Alison adapted, her legs raised and wrapped around his thighs. She felt engulfed within this .. insistent hunger, held tightly within its grip.

Gregory dragged the scroll bars and centered on the head region. The man's head in particular had the same multiple-exposure quality, an image alive with movement.

"Shall we call this one 'intimacy'"?

"No. I know what you're trying to do."

"I'm not trying to do anything. I'm just suggesting. Remember?"

"But you've set up the three photos in this order, and then .."

"It's the order in which it all happened."

Alison ignored the comment. "You're trying to connect them, that the first had distance, that the second we were closer and in the third even closer. You're trying to connect the kissing to the eye contact in photo 2. You have to connect the kissing to photo 1."

"Which means?"

"Kissing is just part of what you do, it gives more physical stimulation. You do it for the pleasure it gives."

"But you just said that you wanted the sense of personal contact .. for want of a better phrase. You're contradicting yourself."

Alison's eyes moistened. She squeezed them shut in frustration.

Gregory reduced the third photo, but not by quite as much as the other two. He moved it to the center of the screen, framed by photo 1 on the left and photo 2 on the right. Alison watched, rubbing the tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"You're doing fine, just hold on. I'm not the one trying to force a connection between photo 2 and 3. I think one of the voices arguing in that head of yours is making the connection. One of you wants to connect it to photo 1, and you have this other thought that maybe it is connected to 2."

"I was afraid," she replied, her voice soft.

Gregory chuckled, gave her a squeeze. "You don't look afraid in the photo."

She shook her head, irritated with herself. "No. Sorry. That came next. Before this I felt alone again. I had already gotten myself into this sharing state of mind and all of a sudden I felt left out. It's as if he was in his own world, that intensity in him. I could feel it." 


Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 01



Her insides felt liquid and twisting in knots. Her eyes drifted over the photo, the way her breast pressed into his chest, the way her nipples tingled, rubbing against his skin. So intensely alive and vivid, her senses heightened, tuned to the sounds he made with his thrusting, the slap of his body against hers made it all the more arousing, turned on by the sounds themselves. She couldn't tell anymore what she was responding to. And yet, the more intense it all felt, the more isolated it made her feel. The involvement that had been there just moments earlier was gone. She wanted to remind him that she was there, a part of what was happening. She wanted that sense of involvement back. Alison started to kiss him again, his neck, along his cheek, had to turn her face almost sideways to get under him to his lips. The shock came quickly. Her lips barely brushed his and he invaded her a second time. She moaned. She had been wrong. It could get physically closer, his mouth pressed as tightly against hers as did the rest of his body weighing down on her, his tongue exploring hers.

"You asked what's going on in the photo," Alison said, almost angrily. "Call the photo 'double penetration'. That's what's happening." 

"That's .. intense," Gregory replied, surprised by the bluntness of her remark.

"I was kissing him to get back in touch." That's when this photo was taken. 

Alison massaged her aching abdomen, looked from Gregory back to the screen. She had tried to match the rhythm of his thrusting but he had her pinned, her muscles tensing and relaxing, failing to meet his thrusts. Finally, the strain of her effort crashed over her in one long burning wave of passion and she moaned again, their mouths working. She wanted to open herself and take something closer into her. She pushed her tongue deeper into him, and ignited the start of an orgasm. In that storm of sensations she was already experiencing, she felt herself swept up to yet another level of intensity.

"God, I was .. just .. so turned on," Alison whispered with a disbelieving shake of her head. "So .. fucking turned on. I was on the edge of another orgasm." She looked up to Gregory. "I was afraid. It was getting out of control. I looked for you and you weren't there." Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"What? I don't understand."

Within that raging, chaotic and deliriously heavenly delicious storm .. if that wasn't enough .. something else bubbled up within her, another surge of longing. It was too much. "What I was doing," Alison continued. "The physical part, everything that I was feeling. It ... I started feeling what I feel when we are together." She had to stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears to meander down her cheeks, tried to rub them away with her fingers. "I felt lost, that I'd gone too far. I didn't know what was connected to what or where I was or what to do and you weren't there."

"I was right there, practically beside you."

"No. There!" she whispered hoarsely, looking back at the screen. "You're not there in the picture, I was physically on fire, and emotions were surging up in me that didn't belong there. You were supposed to be there and instead there was this other guy I hardly know."

"So you felt you had crossed another boundary?"

Alison pressed her palms against her temples. "Maybe. No. I don't know. It didn't feel that way, I didn't cross any boundary in what I was doing. But something else got in, and it didn't belong there. There was just so much going on, all mixed up. I panicked."

"Yeah, I thought I saw something on your face."

"You did?" She sniffled, took another deep breath.

"I noticed something. At the time I didn't think much of it. It came and went. You did look as though you suddenly were trying to claw your way out of a pit of quicksand." 

Relief hit so hard that she had to force back another wave of tears. "Really? I just wanted to get back to you, to hold you."

"You did indeed do that," he said, smiling. She felt her face flush. "No need to blush with me," he continued. She bent forward and kissed his chest, rested a hand on his stomach, brushing it with her fingers. "That's why, when you started looking uneasy over the past couple days, I started wondering about that moment of panic of yours, and the photos." He gave her another hug. "Besides, if what you're now saying is what you felt at the time, then you salvaged the situation for yourself like an expert."

"What do you mean?" she sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of a hand.

"You nudged at his shoulders, raised a leg and sort of rolled over onto your side and reached for me. It was so smooth that I'm not sure he even had to remove his cock from you."

Alison grimaced. "I don't remember what I did, I just wanted out." She kissed his chest again, her hand caressed down his abdomen, found his penis, cupped it, massaged it gently, and it began to grow. She could feel it swell in her hand and feathered its length with her fingers. It began to stiffen. She gripped it in her fist and began a slow pumping motion. She looked up from under raised brows. "What do we have here, Greg?"

"These aren't pictures of flowers we're looking at, and listening to you describe what you were feeling .." Gregory reached over and rubbed her stomach. "Still hurt?" he asked. She only looked up at him, her eyes still moist, her other hand now exploring the shape of his erection. He shifted, turned towards her, touched her abdomen, her thighs, touched her cotton panties, his fingers between her legs .. gave her a questioning look, and she smiled, winced, pulled her head into her shoulders. He slipped his fingers under her panties and drew them out, wet, and spread the wetness over her abdomen. "Do you want a towel?"

"No," she whispered, pulling him to her.

Gregory pulled Alison's cotton panties to one side, pushed the head of his erection against her vulva. A moment of resistance then his erection glided in one fluid motion completely into her. Her neck arched, eyes widened, throat constricted in a short gasp of delight. Gregory began to probe, almost withdrawing and slipping only part of his full length in.

Alison dug her fingernails into his shoulders. "Don't tease me."

Gregory understood what that meant. She wanted it all, full length penetration, and she began bucking into him for emphasis. She grunted with each hard thrust of her hips. Her weightlifter sound, he'd tease, but a much more feminine, a softer delicate grunting. Alison pressed her forehead into his neck, her arms around him, and grunted with each thrust. Whenever she began this frantic movement the best Gregory could manage, to avoid slipping out of her, was to move as little as possible, to hold position at some half way point and only at deepest penetration meet her hips with his.

It didn't take long. The strain and effort of her grunts and groans were soon replaced by short gasps, those replaced by a ragged panting, and those by whimpers. The force of her own thrusting diminished as her body tightened, her back arched. She froze, while Gregory continued the deep thrusting. Alison stopped breathing, her body began to shake in a series of contractions, her head bent back into the mattress, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. Then she collapsed, all the tension in her body released in one long sweet guttural cry. Gregory continued to thrust, while she lay limp and quivering under him.

It was as if a bolt of electricity shot through her. Alison's body shook in a violently spasm. "No, stop." 

Another thrust. "Stop," she gasped. "Stop."

Gregory rested on his elbows, motionless. Alison lay panting, eyes closed, cheeks flushed pink, strands of her hair damp across her brow. Gregory shifted, to take his weight off her. She spasmed again. "Shh, don't move," she whispered, turned her head with half open eyes and kissed him. "Don't move."

Quietly they laid, Alison's breathing slowed. When Gregory attempted to lay beside her she tightened her grip on him. "Stay right where you are," she sighed. He slipped a hand under her t-shirt and cupped a breast. She placed a hand over his, to keep him still. "Don't move," she whispered.

Time passed. Gregory eased out of her, rolled onto his back and she cuddled into the nest made by his arm around her, head on his shoulder.

Time passed. "Feeling better?" Gregory asked.

She kissed his cheek, his mouth. A twinkle in her eyes. "Thanks, I needed that." she giggled. Then silent, eyes closed. Alison smiled.

"Are you conscious enough for a question?" Gregory asked.

"I don't know." She stifled a yawn.

The laptop's screen was black, in power-save mode. Gregory reached over, slid a finger over the touchpad, and the screen brightened, the three photos aligned left to right.

"Do you realize how long all that took?" he asked.

Alison looked over to the photos. How much time? It hadn't occurred to her. "No, I have no idea."

"Three or four minutes at most. It all happened so quickly that none of us noticed much. Even you. You were doing fine the whole time. And now you're stressed out by something that came and went in a few seconds, and ignoring everything else."

"Maybe I'm being silly," she yawned. "It's only when I was thinking about it later that this fear surfaced again. I know it's just one short moment, but the length of time doesn't matter. It's the thought, and it's still here in my mind, festering. It ties my stomach in knots."

"Allie, a person can see faces in a summer cloud. That's how the mind works. What you said, you were overwhelmed, carried away by so much happening that you hardly knew what you were feeling or why. In that state of mind you can see patterns in nothing at all. Just like these photos on the screen. You don't know what connection is the correct one. But there isn't a correct one. You don't have to choose. The middle photo, number three, is a mix of both. It's a mix. There isn't any correct order to them, and you can interpret any one of them any way you want. What's important is which interpretation you choose to act on."

"I know, Greg. That doesn't make it any easier to deal with. Especially after the fact."

"Myopic hindsight. And what do you conclude about acting out fantasies?"

"Be careful? Go slow? I think that if you don't know what you're doing then it can go so wrong in so many ways."

Gregory nodded. Alison puckered her lips, Gregory puckered his and they kissed, and melted into what Alison liked to call a cuddle kiss, softening, lingering. She snuggled her forehead into his neck and closed her eyes.

"And being afraid. Think you understand what that's all about now."

"I'm not sure. No. I don't think so, not yet." Alison yawned. She hugged him. "Greg, I'm falling asleep. We'll have to continue tomorrow." She yawned again and closed her eyes.

He stroked her hair, reached over for the laptop and shut it down. 

"Don't delete the photos," Alison added with impish grin, looking at him through half-opened eyelids.

"Don't worry about that," Gregory winked. He got out of bed and brought the laptop back to the desk and attached it to the power converter to recharge the battery. He heard Alison behind him, making soft noises. Alison didn't snore. She was adamant about it. "I might give a little snurk every once in a while, but that's it," she had once explained to him. He looked down at her and smiled. She was already asleep. He returned to the bed, turned off the reading lamp on the night table. Alison rolled onto her side, her back to him. He eased over to her, pulled back long strands of hair that veiled her face and kissed her cheek.

"Allie?" he whispered.

She replied with a snurk.

Gregory lay beside her, a hand on her waist. Alison wiggled her bum into him, took his hand and pulled his arm up around her like a blanket.



Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 02



Alison searches for closure

It had taken Alison a couple of days to recover from the emotional confrontation with the photos Greg had taken before she could again discuss the threesome experience with him. Some of the truth of her dilemma emerged when he - cautiously - suggested that a second try might clear things up in her mind. The first time of anything can be distorted by nervousness, he said. You have to make your mistakes the first time to get it right the next time.

Alison had her doubts. "You know Greg, the more I think about it the less my fantasy had to do with a threesome. It had to do with two of you, and not a physical experience with interchangeable bodies."

"But," Gregory raised his brows for emphasis. "But you did enjoy it, once you found a balance."

"OK, I'll grant you that," she admitted. "The physical part, it was more intense than I expected. But I needed to keep contact with you to keep my emotions under control. It doesn't feel like something I want to repeat."

"Ah-ha, I get it. What you're really saying is that for you to get the most out of a threesome I can't be involved."

"That's not true!" and she gave him a playful slap across the cheek. "That would be absurd, going from a fantasy with two of you to a reality where you weren't there at all."

Alison concluded that the threesome idea wasn't worth pursuing. In the following days she drifted through her daily life, at work, at the gym, meeting other friends, her part-time studies, a few evenings and nights each week at Greg's apartment. She found relief and a sense of calm in his company, going to a movie or restaurant together, having their long philosophical discussions about anything and everything, or simply sharing a bed at night and waking the next morning to have breakfast together and coordinate their plans for the next several days.

And yet, something lingered. Her thoughts shifted from the general idea of a threesome to a more specific 'what if'? What if she hadn't panicked? What if she had let whatever it was that had been developing continue to its natural conclusion? During evenings on her own in her apartment, she stretched out on her couch and stared at a TV screen, thinking about what it was that she had withdrawn from. She believed she had given the whole story to Greg, especially the important part about being overwhelmed by the intense arousal she felt. A caged physical desire. If she had only stayed in the situation, what would have happened? She tried to imagine it, sometimes while absently rubbing herself through her panties, not enough to get aroused, but enough to placate the sense of unease. 

One night while lying in bed she did go further. She held that sense of urgency in her thoughts, that hunger in his eyes, imagined herself under him, taking him in. She stayed close to the image, and rubbed and fingered herself to an orgasm. Then she lay back on her bed, regaining her breath, and wondered what she was pursuing.

What Greg had said about seeing faces in clouds, that was true. She did start making connections that weren't there, especially the connections related to emotions reserved for Greg that had infiltrated her experience. Yet one fact remained. However true it was that she had been seeing faces in a cloud, the cloud was still there. The pieces of what had really happened were still there. She didn't know what they were. It bothered and fascinated her, and left her with a hollowness inside, that there was something unresolved, unfinished.

She felt paralyzed by the uncertainty. She would sit on her couch in the evening, her arms hugging her legs to her chest, a cheek resting against her knees while staring without attention at the TV. Her stomach would knot, how much from anxiety and how much from a vague longing, she couldn't say. A bit of everything, she concluded with a discouraged shake of her head. The secret that her fearful withdrawal had hidden from her would not come out. She only knew that she ached to discover what it was.

And then, one afternoon, reality intervened to resolve her indecisiveness. Her mobile phone chimed an incoming call.

"Yes?"

"Hello. Is this Alison?"

"Yes."

"Hi. This is Tom."

"Who?"

"Tom." Pause. "You know .. we .. um .. had a get together a while ago?"

"Oh, Tom. I'm sorry. Of course. I .. I just don't know anyone named Tom .. I mean, I couldn't immediately place the name." 

"That's OK. So how are you?"

"Fine, life moving along. How are you?"

"Good .. good. I thought I'd give you a call and ask .. I was wondering if you'd want to meet for a chat sometime, have a coffee somewhere."

"You want to meet? Is there anything on your mind?"

"No. I mean, no issues. I've just been thinking about the evening. We didn't have a chance to talk about it. I was wondering what you thought about it."

"I .. uh .. I don't know."

"Look, if you're feeling embarrassed about it, I understand. It wasn't an evening playing Monopoly. If it's something you want to forget about..."

"No, not monopoly," she giggled nervously. "But, no, it's not something I want to forget about. It feels awkward, that's all. I've already spent enough time talking it over with my .. with Greg. I guess it's only fair that you want to talk about it too. It might do me some good."

"Great. How about some time next week?" 

He mentioned a coffee shop she recognized, near the university campus. But, next week? She had to get this done. The waiting would drive her crazy. "The place is OK. But can we meet sooner, in the next couple of days? I'm going to be pretty busy next week."

"Sure, that's good. Tomorrow? Wednesday? 3 o'clock?"

"I can manage Thursday, same time."

"Great. Thanks. See you then."

"OK. Bye." Alison put down the phone. Does jumping out of an airplane without a parachute feel like this? Weightless, she thought, a euphoric weightlessness. She went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. She clasped her hands to her flushed cheeks and stared at herself. What have you just done, Alison? She bent over and splashed cold water on her face. Call it off. But it's at a coffee shop, there's nothing to call off. You can go and have a chat. That's why he wants to meet at midday in a coffee shop. It's safe. It's an escape route. 

Alison sat on the edge of her bed, then collapsed onto her back. But what does he want? There is something more important than that, Alison, she challenged herself. Be honest with yourself, what do you want? She shook her head in reply to her own interrogating voice, and crossed her arms over her eyes. I want to understand what happened. I want to get back to that moment and repeat it, not be afraid, and finish it in whatever way it's supposed to finish. The admission ignited the pressure that had been building inside her for days. She rolled over onto her stomach and cried.

* * * * *

Alison paused at the curb, checked for traffic, then crossed the street and headed towards her rendezvous. She had decided to remain her casual self, but instead of jeans and t-shirt that would have been her more usual choice of casual, she wore a calf-length skirt and a loose short-sleeved blouse. She was being practical, she admitted to herself, even though her choice of what to wear had caused her some anxiety. She also carried a single strap shoulder bag. She had debated whether it might have been too large to bring, but, thought it better to admit her own motivation to herself, and be prepared. Anticipate eventualities, Greg was always telling her. Reality is a labyrinth as it is. Why make it worse by cluttering your mind with excuses, evasions, and proper-sounding rationalizations? Now, crossing the street, Alison thought that it was easier said than done. She wondered what might be hidden inside the labyrinth she was now weaving into. Stay focused, she told herself, impatient with her too-easy tendency towards tears. As long as she could hold her nerves together, and keep her emotions under some semblance of control, she should manage. 

The sunny weather meant that most of the clientele were sitting outside at the terrace tables. She could find a quiet corner inside, and use the time until Tom arrived to calm down. Alison took a deep breath and entered the coffee shop, a half hour early. A waitress smiled a greeting and Alison immediately ordered a tea, turned to find a table and saw Tom waving to her. There goes my plan to calm down, she thought ruefully, and took another deep breath.

She felt awkward, embarrassed, and suddenly shy as she walked over to the table, greeted Tom with a nervous "Hi" and a quick bob of her head, then sat opposite him and fussed with her shoulder bag. 

"Can I get you something?" Tom asked.

"No, I'm fine. I ordered tea when I came in."

"Nice that you arrived early. I had time to spare and thought I'd come here to wait."

"Yes, me too," Alison replied. The waitress came over with the tea, which gave Alison another way to distract herself for a couple of minutes. "Tom, can I just say something?" He gave a nod of encouragement. "I know why we're here," she continued. "I mean, what we're here to have a chat about. I'm just feeling nervous about it. Considering .. what we did .. I feel exposed." She folded her arms around her waist, defensively.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm in the same position you are."

"Yes, but ..." she paused when Tom raised his eyebrows questioningly. But .. what? She thought. "OK, fair enough." She talked to her hands. "I just have to say it. I know what we came here to talk about, I agreed to it, and I don't want to mess it up fidgeting nervously with evasive small talk. I'll feel better if we just start in. You don't need to do anything to put me at ease."

"I guess you're right." He paused, and Alison nodded for him to continue. " I was wondering about something you said on the phone. We could start there." Alison nodded again. "You said that talking about it might do you some good. What sort of good do you mean?"

"A lot was going on. It was more .. complicated .. than I had expected. I've been trying to work through it with Greg, talking about my fantasy and how reality measured up to it." Tom laughed out loud. Alison cringed in embarrassment. "Oh my God, I'm sorry I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

Tom shook his head, grinning. "Priceless .. please, you were saying?"

Alison felt as though everyone in the coffee shop was looking at her, which of course they were not, but it was only because she was already feeling self-conscious. She studied her hands, holding onto her cup of tea. "The fantasy I had was one thing. How it all happened was something else. I've been trying to figure out what the one has to do with the other. Talking with you might do me some good because your .. perspective, the way you saw things .. might make some of it less mixed up."

"Do you know what's confusing you?"

"Wait, I have a question for you first. What's your reason for wanting to talk about this with me?"

Tom didn't reply immediately, sat thinking. Alison sipped on her tea. "I've been feeling .. a lack of closure, something not finished." he said. Alison concentrated on the cup in her hands, tried to control her erratic breathing. "There isn't anything that I want to figure out or understand," Tom continued. "I guess our reasons are different in that respect. Still, we were both there and.."

"You want to compare notes?"

"Not to be too clinical about it," he protested, smiling. "But, yes, in a way. I'm curious about how you experienced things, to see how our experiences fit together, and get some closure in that way. So, back to my next question. Do you know what you want to work out?"

Another couple entered the coffee shop and sat at a table next to them. Alison leaned forward, her forearms on the table. "It was complicated for me." She searched for a way of saying what she wanted to say, something that Tom would understand but a casual eavesdropper at the next table would not .. not that they'd be listening, or .. but she didn't know what she wanted to say to Tom. What she wanted to know was what he was thinking. "I'm not sure if this will make sense to you, but it's as though my fantasy was really about Greg."

Tom shook his head. "You're right, that doesn't make sense to me."

"That part, I think I understand it. I was feeling very emotional and it felt out of place and anyway it doesn't involve you, so I can set that part aside. But when I do that, what it means is that the thr .. what we did," she glanced cautiously at other people sitting nearby, straightened her shoulders, "when I set aside the emotional part with Greg that makes .. I feel confused about the rest."

"It looked as though you enjoyed it."

Alison shook her head. "Greg says the same thing. It's true, I suppose, but more like an overall summary. I don't know how I came across at the time. This confusion came out later." Alison made brief eye contact with the woman at the next table, and sighed. "Tom, I'm feeling very uncomfortable here. Could we just take a walk outside?"

"Sure. I'll cover the bill." Alison waited for him outside, unsure of where the conversation was leading. Tom seemed evasive but no more than she was. Anyway, I'm not being evasive, just cautious, she insisted to herself. We both are.

Tom joined her and they headed down the street together. "It's as you say," she continued. "If it was only me and the physical experience, then I'd say I enjoyed the experience and that my curiosity about my fantasy was satisfied. Let me ask you this. What was in it for you?"

"Pardon?" Tom give her another quizzical look.

"It was all about me and my fantasy. It was the two of you with me on the receiving end," she giggled nervously. "If you see what I mean."

"OK, I get what you're saying. I don't know how many different ways there are in doing what we .. having a threesome. If all the participants were bisexual then that would .. create more possibilities."

"That's what I mean. I understand how I was benefiting from it, but I don't see what you .. for example .. would get out of it." Tom laughed again. "No, I'm serious. Greg was, partly, doing me a favour, that was his motivation. OK, it got complicated in a different direction but that's not the point. If I just consider the physical part, I understand what's in it for me, but not for either of you."

"Maybe for Greg, but not yet for me?"

"No," she replied with some hesitation. Does he get it?

Tom smiled, pensive. "I think you're forgetting something here, Alison. I don't know how much you want me to spell it all out in detail, but the bottom line is that if you just consider what I got out of it, then you were doing your share of giving. What I did and what we did. I wasn't exactly short changed, was I?" he smiled.

Weren't you? That's what I want to know, she thought. "Maybe you weren't. But I'm still wondering, if it just came down to what you get out of it, then wouldn't the two guys be getting in each other's way, needing to time-share the woman? It's fine for the woman in the situation, she's getting it all from both partners. You weren't."

"Guys might be simple-minded, but we can also show some generosity on rare occasions."

Alison persisted. "You weren't both doing this just for me, what was in it for you?"

"Aside from the actual .. uh .. sexual activity?"

"We had intercourse, and I gave you oral sex," Alison corrected, and her head spun. "I'm feeling awkward talking about this in public, walking down a street. But I'm not .. don't worry, it's not a taboo topic for me. Sometimes I need to be blunt. You can say the words, it helps calm me down."

"Right, then. Aside from .. having intercourse," he paused, and Alison glanced at him, pressed her lips together. "No, not aside from that, in addition to that. As far as us guys getting in each other's way, that depends on what else you want. There are a lot of things a guy can get off on. I wouldn't call it voyeurism, but being there to watch can add something, so long as you can participate. And then there's the chance to have sex with someone you'd ordinarily not have sex with."

Alison smiled cautiously. "That one sounds illicit. You haven't been stalking me, have you?"

"Of course not. I mean, the choice was there, and I found .. find .. you sexually attractive. Some of us stay away from women already in relationships, even when we find them sexually attractive. I can assure you that my participation was not purely altruistic."

"Ah, well, that's a relief," Alison replied with a light self-mocking tone. "And the other part? Not normally getting a chance?"

"Now we get into more fantasy. As you said, some illicit role play."

"But in that case, what would be the point in a threesome? The secretiveness - or whatever the point is - wouldn't be there."

"I'm not so sure. I can see how it might work for someone, having access to private property, forbidden fruit. That sort of thing. With fantasies it's all about the idea."

"Now you're talking maybe for someone, not about what it was for you. Is that what it was for you? "

"That you are already in a relationship? No, that was irrelevant." Alison frowned sceptically. "Fine, I suppose at the start that had something to do with it," he conceded. "It's one of those things that fires your imagination, but it wasn't the main thing."

"That's OK," Alison smiled. "I don't mind being forbidden fruit .. part of the time. But you just said not getting in each other's way depends on what a person wants." 

Tom again hesitated. Alison sensed that he was still being cautious, evasive in some vague way. They had been walking side by side, exchanging glances while talking while still keeping an eye on pedestrian traffic. Now, she felt that the conversation had gotten to the point where her next question could no longer be ambiguous. 

An awkward silence settled between them, balanced at the point where she was most uncertain. She knew what she wanted to ask: not what he wanted, but whether he got what he wanted. She looked cautiously sideways at Tom, "You said you lacked closure," and she held his glance. She held his eyes, trying to sense his reaction .. and strode full frontal into someone coming in the opposite direction. 

A flurry of embarrassed apologies, picked up her shoulder bag that had fallen to the pavement, and they continued walking down the street. "You alright?" Tom asked.

"No bumps or bruises. Lucky for me the guy was carrying some extra weight. It was like bouncing off a big air bag." She had her arms around herself and gave herself a rub. "Maybe we should go find a place to sit if we want to safely finish this conversation."

They continued walking in silence for a minute. Tom finally spoke. "My apartment is only about 5 minutes' from here. We could go there if that's OK with you."

Alison stared straight ahead. "Sure, that's fine."

"At least you won't have to worry about eavesdroppers or .."

"Tom," she interrupted him and touched his arm. "I agreed." She held his eyes.

Neither of them talked during the few minutes it took to get to his apartment. Alison's immediate thought was, it's settled, and was surprised by a warm tranquility that accompanied that thought. And almost as rapidly it was replaced by uncertainty. She was guessing. She had no idea what exactly it was that they were agreeing to. 

But then, if she knew the answer to that then none of this would have started in the first place.

* * * * *

Alison entered a large studio apartment, at top floor conversion, at least twice the size of her own two room apartment. Tom had arranged his furniture in such a way as to divide the large space into four separate function areas. A kitchenette-dining area faced the vestibule entrance. To the right was a living room and entertainment area. Along the wall to her right was a desk/work area. A row of open shelves that held books and assorted objects served to close off the sleeping area, closest to the windows. The bed was a mattress on the floor within a wooden frame. The bed itself was unmade, the way Tom must have left it this morning. The apartment, while not messy, had a cluttered, lived in look to it. Somehow, that reassured her. 




Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 02



She was about to compliment the arrangement when Tom stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and waited. She willed her body to not tense up, but could not control her runaway heart that pounded with the anxious admission that she had no idea where this was going. He touched her neck, traced up behind her ears, down along the line of her jaw, over her throat. Alison half-turned to him. He held her cheek, turned her face to his and began to kiss her lightly, barely brushing her lips with his, then held his mouth to hers with only a hint of pressure. She parted her lips in hesitant invitation, which he declined, first exploring her lips with small short pecks, then held longer and when Alison again parted her lips she felt the tip of his tongue against hers, heads tuned and mouths shaping to each other, pressing closer.

Alison took a step back and unfastened the top button of her blouse, then the second. Tom stopped her hands, turned her around, and continued to unfasten the buttons himself, deliberately, without haste. Alison stood, and waited. When the blouse was slid from her shoulders, then down her arms and onto the floor, she could sense Tom quickly removing his own clothes. In two movements she undid a clasp, pulled down a zipper and her skirt joined her blouse at her feet. Her practical consideration, she smiled to herself. Before she could undo her bra, Tom's bare chest pressed against her back, his bare arms encircled her, his fingers traced the line where her bra met bare skin. Moments later the bra joined the rest of her clothes on the floor.

Alison had expected more urgency from Tom, and was unprepared for the inquisitive touching. When his fingers brushed over her hips, the hollow of her waist, when his thumbs teased the swell and curve of her breasts, she wanted to scream Tom, I'm ready. I've been ready for the past week. He cupped her breasts in his hands, felt their soft weight, squeezed them, massaged them, pulled her to him. Alison sighed in relief, her head fell back onto his shoulder, her temple against his cheek. Something wasn't right, she thought, as she turned in his arms parted her lips and pressed her mouth to his and thankfully she felt his moist tongue. His pulled her closer, her breasts pressed against his chest. She took a half step closer still, naked bodies embraced.

Tom broke the embrace and led Alison across the room to his bed. Something in Alison watched her walk barefoot across the floor, and interrogated her, what are you doing? Naked but for her panties, only a few more steps to Tom's bed, and Alison thought she had already made the same mistake she had made in the threesome. She had been guided by a specific expectation how Tom would behave, and the reality had already laid waste to it. Now, heart pounded with trepidation, she sensed that with each step she was entering the same unexplored territory, that she was too far away from what she wanted to repeat. It was Tom's gentler manner. She was looking for that urgent hunger and had to find it again, but she didn't know how. Maybe it wasn't even there to be found at all.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed, Alison stood before him. He slid her panties down to her ankles and she stepped out of them. He kissed her abdomen, caressed the inside of her thighs, not touching her anywhere that she needed to be touched. She ached. Something was not right. He moved back onto the mattress, coaxed her down beside him. She lay down on her back, her forearms raised and hands extended to accept his body into her own embrace, to hold him against her. Instead, Tom lay on his side beside her. With one arm cradling her head, he began exploring her with his other hand. It made Alison feel self-conscious, self-aware of her own nakedness and where she was. She turned her head, took in the strange room she found herself in, and had agreed to enter. I'm getting ahead of myself, a voice admonished. I'm making the same mistake. It's like before, it's the situation, that's what is twisting my stomach in knots. It's not why I'm here, I didn't come here to be fucked by some guy in his bed. She winced, stung by her own brutality.

Tom massaged her mound with the heel of his hand, scissored her labia between two fingers. Alison shifted under him, pulled his face down to hers and kissed him again, slow, to calm herself, slow, to let the warmth spread. She pushed her hips slowly into his massaging hand, his fingers spread the petals of her labia, felt her receptive wetness, probed into her. Alison coiled under his touch. God I'm ready she thought, I didn't come here for this.

Tom positioned himself between Alison's legs, and supported himself on outstretched arms. He slid his erection along her wet groove, enticing Alison to rock her hips into him, both in anticipation and invitation. He probed the wet entrance to her, the swollen head of his erection pushing into the folds of her labia. Alison held onto his arms, watched, just as Tom watched. Each time, she thought, each time the same agonized anticipation of this same intimate joining of bodies. 

Tom weighed down on Alison and the head of his erection slid past the inviting moist folds of her labia and entered her. He pushed deeper. Alison felt strangled, unable to make a sound. He withdrew again and she watched dizzily while the swollen head of his erection probed at her entrance. He's not teasing, she realized. He is savouring every detail of this. He is doing it all again in slow-motion, not like that rapid first-entry during the threesome. Tom held himself over Alison, the only contact between them being his erection probing at the entrance to her vagina. Alison watched and felt, enthralled by what she was permitting, and spread her legs wider so that all she could feel was their bodies joined at that one place.

Alison gasped in ragged anticipation as Tom shifted then plunged deep into her and her head arched back and she heard herself moan with relief that it was done.

Tom continued a rhythm of long deep languid thrusts, rocking his body like a pendulum over Alison. She tried to make eye contact but he was intent on watching his erection disappear into her, then withdrawn gleaming with her wetness. Alison watched what he watched, how each thrust of his body into her sent a shockwave up her body, her breasts quivering. He lowered himself, lay half on his side to keep her breasts exposed and watched them shake in response every time he pushed into her. He gripped them, pliant and soft, then paused and kissed Alison's mouth, slid his tongue between her open lips. He thrust slowly into her, then withdrew and again he pushed into her, and kissed, and caressed, and thrust and squeezed. Alison felt powerless to do anything. When he at last propped himself on both his forearms and continued a steady rhythm, Alison closed her eyes and abandoned herself the waves of pleasure that rose up from their joined bodies and flowed through her. 

Yes, he is repeating all of it, she thought, and she laughed, a hoarse deep laugh in her throat. Tom didn't know about the photos, and this is photo number one, Alison thought. She moaned and sighed. She closed her eyes, bit her fingers, released herself into a light delirium. 

Tom began to move his hips in a rolling motion, and the change pulled her back into his room. She opened her eyes, took in where she was, the mattress, the curtained windows to the left. It's the situation, naked on this bed, with Tom caressing her breasts and sucking on her nipples and an erect penis gliding in and out of her, those seductive sucking sounds. She felt it build, an orgasm gaining force, drawing energy from that hard shaft moving inside her. She began to struggle against Tom's movement. She groaned with each push of her hips against his, then together finally, in rhythmic unison, and she rose and arched her back, motionless, suspended in space while he fed the building wave until it broke over her. This isn't the way it was supposed to happen, she thought in her delirium. Alison threw her arms around Tom, buried her face in his neck and cried out in an agony of relief. She gasped and whimpered and moaned softly, hugged Tom's body with arms and legs, then collapsed back onto the bed. Tom continued to move inside her, slower, shallower, and followed her down to an area of calm.

She felt a weight removed yet still found herself in a state of sexual arousal, electric in her mind, turned on by her own sexual excitement. She saw this with a sense of disconnection, as though she was outside of herself, watching. The arousal was not just what she herself felt physically, what Tom's physical stimulation had brought her to. It had to do with being here in this room, and even more to do with how she had made Tom react. She was acutely aware of her own naked body that Tom was now licking and caressing. She could tell how it affected him, and she was aroused by her own body's power to have this effect, to have been able to bring him to where it did.

Time passed. Tom stopped eventually, eased out of her and lay beside her. Alison lay with eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Her orgasm had released her into a warm, electric place and, for the moment, a calm place. She felt pensive, wondered whether this was why she came. "I'm thirsty," she said, the first words either of them had spoken since entering the apartment. Tom got out of bed and returned with a large glass of water. Alison sat up, and drank half of it without taking a breath. Tom lay on the bed beside her. She held the glass to him and he shook his head. Alison took another sip, sat cross-legged, one arm around her waist. She took another long drink of water and placed the glass on the floor. She drew up her knees and clasped them with her arms. It didn't feel right, an irritated voice kept telling her. Yet somehow the warm afterglow of her orgasm sharpened her senses. She felt aroused by where she was, daylight streaming in through the windows, illuminating the unfamiliar room.

It's not so different this time, she thought, alone with Tom in his apartment, on his bed. It is slower than the threesome but it's repeating, she argued against the skeptical and uncertain voice in her. It's all happening in the same way, even her first orgasm, even though the last time it was from .. different but still the same order. We'll get to the same place, she reassured herself, then I'll know. She brushed some loose strands of hair from her face, and realized that her hair band had loosened and her long hair was now an undisciplined tangle. She removed the hair band, gathered her hair together, redid the ponytail. 

Tom pushed himself off the mattress. "Excuse me a moment."

Alison watched him cross the room then got up and followed him to the bathroom. She leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed, and watched while he sat on the toilet and urinated. I don't know why I'm watching, she thought to herself. I pee at home, I'm indifferent to it. When Tom finished she went over to the toilet and sat down. Tom stood by the sink and rinsed off his penis. Alison watched him, and caught herself tempted to take the cold wet thing in her mouth.

When she went to wipe herself with toilet paper it fell apart in her hand. She stood and entered the shower stall, turned on a tap, and gasped when the cold water sprayed over her. She quickly rubbed herself with the palm of a hand, rinsing off her pubic hair and the insides of her thighs. She dried herself off and returned to the room.

Tom was stretched out on the bed. Alison crossed the room and paused in the living area. She was in a far corner of her own mind, bemused by the thoughts she was having, looked at the couch and wondered what it would be like to have sex on it. Deep in her mind, she giggled, because she did not usually think that way. Except, now, the raw sexuality of the situation invited such an expression. She repeated the thought, what would it be like to be fucked by Tom on the couch? It made her feel dispassionate, almost cold. A cold sexual heat. That feeling split her world into two parts. If she had just had this experience with Greg she would want to cuddle up next to him, cradled in a soothing warm afterglow of physical and emotional intimacy. Now, even with the same afterglow of sex, satiated and yet still aroused, she felt dispassionate. As though she was now inside an isolated bubble, and Greg and her other feelings were somewhere else. Connecting the two worlds was that maze, that labyrinth of confusion.

Alison looked through the bookcase divider to Tom stretched out on the bed. He was watching her. She felt extremely conscious of being naked, something about the situation that made clothes the false element. She wanted Tom to see her naked, not in a lewd way, but seen as a self-evident part of the reality of why she was here. If he wants to continue, I'll do it, she decided, and felt another wave of heat rise in her.

Alison returned to the bed and lay down propped up on her elbows facing the foot of the bed, her feet crossed on a pillow. Her gaze wandered, looked about the room, over her own body, back to Tom. Alison held his eyes for a few moments. She didn't think of smiling, just held his eyes. She looked down over his torso, lingered her gaze on his penis, down over his legs.

"You're looking very thoughtful," Tom said.

Alison took a deep breath and gave an apologetic shrug. "I don't know what to say." 

"I haven't been very talkative myself." Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Tom again broke the silence. "Why did you agree to meet me?"

"Why did you ask in the first place?" she returned the challenge. She again waited a few moments before continuing. "I know your invitation to meet for a chat was just a way to give both of us an easy way out. I wanted this to happen," and indicated, with a quick sweep of her eyes over their bodies, what she was referring to.

Tom sensed the challenge in Alison's casual posture. Her legs separated, trying neither to show or hide anything. He could see her still swollen vulva and the delicate protruding leaves of her inner labia. She didn't give him any room for evasion. "That's what I wanted to meet you for," he acknowledged. "But you haven't said why."

Alison was finding it difficult to breathe. "Neither have you," she replied. "Fine. I sensed something from you last time and I wasn't sure if I imagined it. I wanted to check."

"And did you imagine it?"

"No, I didn't imagine it. It's there." She held his eyes, felt defiant, her breathing uneven, her nerves alive. Her gaze drifted down to his penis and thought that she wanted it hard and inside her. No, that's not what I want, she corrected herself. I want him to want it. I want to feel him wanting it. She looked back over their naked bodies to his face, held his eyes. Can he read my mind, she wondered. Are my thoughts written on my face? Her lips parted. She saw the tenseness in him. It's there.

Tom didn't say anything. He sat up and knelt between Alison's legs that she had spread in invitation. Alison lay back and crossed her arms behind her head and let Tom massage her. He did it with an air of possession, as much to arouse himself as her. She wondered if she was indeed forbidden fruit for him, turned on by the access to her body that she granted him. She felt it in the way he paused from the long massaging strokes up the sides of her body, to grip her breasts, fondle them, run his fingers over her nipples. She closed her eyes and let his actions warm her, partly from the physical touch and partly from the idea of what she represented to him.

Alison thought she was on the verge of another orgasm and yet her body was slow to respond. They licked and kissed each other, touched and teased with slow caresses, naked bodies rubbing against each other, entwined limbs. Finally, her body was wet and receptive and Tom began pushing at her opening with his erection. Alison gripped the wooden frame above her head, kept her eyes closed and concentrated on his progress, that mind-spinning moment when the swollen head of Tom's erection pushed through the short door of resistance and entered her. She tightened her vagina. She gripped Tom with her thighs. She wanted to feel the effort of entry deeper into her.

The pulse and throb of entry and re-entry drove Alison into a swoon, rudderless and adrift, tossed about by the deep and shallow and slow and hard of Tom's frantic pursuit. Her head slid off the mattress, and she reached back to brace herself against the floor to keep from sliding entirely off the bed. Then her shoulders followed and her hands flailed to find support on Tom's arms, but his relentless surge drove them both off the bed. Tom was on his knees, clutched her hips and pulled her to him, thrust into her, buried himself in her body. Alison offered no resistance, let herself be dragged about. His wildness, every penetration of it, fed something in her.

That elusive sense of contact was this time not achieved with shared eye contact. When she managed it, drugged with hot sexual arousal and smiling through half-opened eyelids to read the expressions on Tom's face, when his eyes met hers he appeared to be bewildered. Whatever it was that was driving him, he found it elsewhere, in how her body shook with his thrusting, in how Alison arched her back and pushed her hips into him to deepen his penetration. 

Tom paused, panting, bent over Alison. She looked up at him, and thought she'd try to coax him out of his aggressive urgency and into accepting that he didn't have to struggle, to slow down and enjoy where they were together. Alison held onto his arms and pulled herself to a sitting position, sat across his spread thighs, his erection nestled within in her, folded her arms around his neck. She raised herself on her knees, and let herself glide back down over his erection, held Tom close, drew her nipples over his skin. Tom had an arm round her waist and supported her as she leaned back to allow him to fondle a breast, hold the firm nipples between his lips. Alison rose slowly, then lowered her face to his, touched noses, drew her wet lips over his mouth, rocked her hips slowly over him, and buried her tongue his open mouth. She held herself to him. She rocked slow and deliberate, her body pressed against his, wet, delirious.

Tom couldn't bear it. He lifted Alison, turned and threw her back onto the mattress, knelt on the floor, raised her legs, and pushed into her. Alison grinned up at him. She pulled both knees up to her chest, held them tightly together and Tom leaned onto them and continued a long rhythm of slow and deep thrusts. When she felt a shift of tension in his movement she opened herself and took him closer and let him find his release. She spread her legs and he fell onto her, held her, kissed her neck, her shoulders. He held onto the bed frame above her head and burrowed deep into her by sliding his whole body over hers. Alison lay with arms and legs spread under him and when she sensed him getting closer, she slowly tightened her body vice-like around him, enclosing him just as his own approaching orgasm was engulfing both of them. His movements became more erratic, more urgent. There came a moment's pause, a shift of his position while he balanced on the brink of the final plunge. Alison held him to her, and she was swept up in his orgasm as he pounded hard into her again and again emptying himself into her embrace.

* * * * *

Alison lay across the bed, her head on a pillow. Tom's exhausted body half-covering hers, his right leg between her spread legs. She could feel his penis, sticky and soft, pressed against her right thigh. For a while he had been soothing himself and her, lightly caressing between her legs. A post-coital drowsiness quickly overtook him and he stopped, his hand rested on her abdomen, his head on a pillow beside her. Alison still had her right arm around him, a remnant of the last moments of hugging passion.




Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 02



Alison had been so intent on experiencing Tom's orgasm that she wasn't sure what she had felt herself. Laying there now, in the quiet of the room, she felt both sated and yet still with a warm buzz of arousal, as if her nerve endings were still charged and firing. 

She lay there, looked over their bodies in a late afternoon light. Tom had dozed off. This would make a good photo, she observed from a distance. What should we call this one, Greg? Aftermath? She almost choked in her struggle to suppress a nervous laugh. Alison, where do these thoughts come from? She drifted, alone with her thoughts, her right hand absently caressed his shoulder and held his head, her fingers in his hair. Her stomach knotted, an uneasy reaction to a simple gesture that felt inexplicably too familiar. How can that be possible, she wondered? It was almost 6pm, she hadn't realized how much time had passed. We've been having sex for .. how long? .. she asked herself, and now I'm worried about too much familiarity? She pulled back her hand, too conscious of the skin of her forearm touching Tom's back. Yes, I am, she admitted, brow furrowed in puzzlement. 

She again felt a disconnect. She was not on the bed, no longer in the room. Instead, she stumbled back into that maze of confusion, a labyrinth of twisting corridors of her own thoughts and feelings. She followed each in turn to see which corridor gave her stomach a twist. If I was now with Greg, she thought, I'd turn to him and put my other arm around him. He would hold me. We would hold each other. We would face each other and whisper to each other. She held that image and found herself transported, with crystal clarity, to a place in her mind that soothed the tension and bathed her in a restful glow. 

It was easy. She was amazed that it was so easy to find her way out. 

Alison remained in bed a while longer, long enough for her sexual heat to dissipate and to be replaced by another need, signaled by a grumbling stomach. She eased herself out from under Tom's arm. He drifted into half-consciousness, raised his head.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said.

"Sure," he replied. "Towels are somewhere." He rolled onto his back, an arm over his eyes.

Alison entered the shower stall and adjusted the water up to temperature. One part of her wanted to linger under the soothing hot water flowing over her skin, while another part of her was concerned that Tom might join her. She could guess where he'd want that to lead, and her own lingering sexual arousal tempted her in the same direction.

Alison turned and gasped in surprise to see Tom sliding open the door to the shower.

"Sorry to frighten you," he said with an apologetic wince.

"The running water. I didn't hear you come in," Alison replied, flustered. She saw Tom's expression change to one of amusement, and she realized that she was standing in front of him in a classic pose of trying to cover herself with crossed arms and spread palms. "Oh," she muttered, giving him a self-conscious glance as she stepped past him.

She dried herself, gathered up her clothes still in a pile on the floor, and returned to the bed. She slipped on her panties and her bra. She put on her skirt and blouse, found her hair band by the side of the bed and fastened her hair back into a pony tail. She retrieved her sandals and shoulder bag from the vestibule and returned to the living room. She sat on the couch and put on her sandals, then turned her back to the bathroom and studied the titles of the books on the shelves. Tom finished his own shower and was now following the same routine of retrieving his clothes and dressing. She was in the same room, but felt she was in a different mental space, from which she viewed the shared physical intimacy with a sense of awkwardness. She remembered she had felt comfortable there, in that space, but the memory was almost of watching a different person. Now, she didn't know what to do. She felt uneasy. She couldn't just leave. Something else ought to be said.

Alison glanced in Tom's direction and when he was completely dressed she faced him and pressed her lips together in a forced smile. "I didn't realize how late it is. I'm famished. If you don't mind me running off ..."

"There's a pretty good Thai restaurant not far from here. We could go have something to eat there, if you don't have anything else planned."

"Sure." Alison stood and removed a loose knit open front cardigan from her shoulder bag. Just being practical, she thought to herself. It can get chilly in the evening, and you never know how long you might be out.

Within 15 minutes they were sitting at a table, studying the menu. Alison asked for a recommendation, and Tom suggested the beef massaman curry. He ordered shrimp in a red curry sauce for himself. While eating their meal, Alison was content to let Tom entertain her with stories of a trip he had taken to Thailand. She let him do most of the talking, listened with interest, asked the occasional question. Her own thoughts were elsewhere, engaged in a silent debate as to what to do next. 

The simple thing to do would be to finish eating and then go home. Alison thought she understood enough to be able to let the matter drop without being further plagued by unanswered questions. But a more inquisitive side of her had little patience with easy exits. However much she thought she now understood, they had still not said anything about what had happened and why. In fact, they had hardly talked at all. The ambiguity bothered her. They both could have been acting for entirely different reasons and she wanted those reasons out in the open so that she could avoid .. avoid what?

While she smiled and laughed at the appropriate points in Tom's stories, and nodded, and paid her half of the bill, and stood to leave, she was irritated by the lack of simplicity in the situation. The deed done didn't end things as much as it implied a start for something new, how the threesome had led to .. this private thing .. and how this could spiral off in an unanticipated direction. She felt claustrophobic, sensed the labyrinth of her thoughts starting to collapse around her.

They retraced the route they'd taken to the restaurant, and Alison could continue past Tom's apartment to where she could catch a bus back home. She again felt torn by a surreal sense of disconnect. How do you say good-bye, she wondered. Shake his hand? They had spent more time in bed during their time together than out of it. The absurdity of it made her laugh.

"Pardon?" Tom asked.

"Oh! Sorry, nothing. Just some strange thoughts running through my head," she shrugged. It was something to sort out, both of them now paused on the sidewalk. Another junction.

"Would you like to come up for a while and talk about it?"

Alison had already decided, but hesitated, felt perplexed, her brow furrowed. "OK," she replied.

A sense of déjà vu hit Alison when she stepped into the apartment, which told her how far removed she felt from everything that had happened earlier that afternoon. She half expected Tom to step up behind her and place his hands on her shoulders. The thought gave her a brief flash of anxiety, unsure of the situation, and she almost sighed with relief when he instead asked her if she'd like something to drink.

"A cup of tea, if you have some."

"Only tea bags."

"That's fine," she said, and walked over to the couch, removed her cardigan, slipped off her sandals and sat down. The apartment was lit by a ceiling light in the kitchen area. An amber tint of street lighting warmed the other end of the apartment. Alison removed her hair band and combed out her hair with her fingers, then reached up and turned on a lamp behind the couch. 

Tom set a tray on the low table before them and sat on the couch beside her. Alison poured herself a cup of tea, stirred in some sugar, then sat back, cup in hand, and folded her legs under her. They both sat in silence, a silence that began to feel increasingly brittle. She looked over to Tom, thought a moment. "Did you get your closure?" she asked, softening the words with a smile in her eyes.

"Closure," Tom chuckled, and pulled a face. "What was I supposed to say?"

Alison shrugged. "The simple truth would work."

"I didn't know how you'd react. I didn't even know what you were thinking."

"I'm only kidding. I was having the same problem. What would you have done if I said no?"

"I didn't see it that way, as a direct question. I figured it would come up, or not, and that would settle the matter. And it came up. We both moved in the direction we wanted. Right?"

"Yes." Alison paused again, thinking. "So what about your closure .. or whatever we want to call it? What was it that you felt you lacked in the first place."

"Believe it or not, there was one moment when I sensed it. If I can interrupt your question with one of my own, I'm wondering what it was that bothered you."

Alison put her cup onto the tray and took a deep breath to calm herself. "I had a very specific idea of what would happen in our threesome. I know it can be a serial one-on-one, as Greg calls it, but I just hadn't thought about it in that way. So when you, you know," she paused again, feeling unsettled.

"It's difficult to say, even when you've done it, isn't it? I suppose .. when I sort of took over."

Alison winced. "Yes, you literally pulled me out of my fantasy image. I found myself somewhere else, out of my depth."

"But .."

"But then I got tuned into how you were feeling and, I'm not sure, I was drawn into it. You were very .. intense." Alison said the words and felt her insides begin to dissolve. She grasped her cup of tea to give herself something to do, to keep herself from shaking.

"I think we're talking about the same thing. At one moment you were involved, and suddenly you withdrew. And that's .."

"Your lack of closure," Alison concluded for him. A hot euphoria made her head spin. I was right, I was right, she repeated to herself. It all makes sense. "That's what was bothering me. I felt very confused at the time and withdrew. It frightened me, and later it bothered me. I wanted to see what it would be like if I had let it continue."

"Yes, so did I," Tom said. They both sat half turned towards each other, Tom's arm along the back of the couch. In the hesitant admissions they had begun talking in whispers to each other. 

Alison could feel the subtle tension in their exchange, the thoughtful pauses, as they edged closer. I'm back, Alison decided. I'm back in that other place. She looked at Tom, conscious of being so close to him, yet not touching, her mind hot with memories of what they had done that afternoon. She looked down at her folded legs. She could feel herself getting wet. "Considering everything," she said. "Considering this afternoon, would it have worked for you, even in a threesome one-on-one interlude?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. You mentioned us guys getting in each others' way. I think you were right."

She smiled. "It had to do with being able to let yourself go?"

"Maybe. I think it had more to do with not wanting to be interrupted. Could you have? Let yourself go?"

"I don't know. I thought I could. That's what I thought I was doing, letting myself go. It frightened me. That's why I had my panic attack." Alison frowned, felt sad. "I guess I was the one doing the interrupting."

"That's what I thought at the time, that you stopped something."

"You were very intense," Alison looked back up to Tom, heart pounding. "Even today. You were coming at me like there was no tomorrow."

"Like there's no tomorrow," he repeated. "That's one way of looking at it." Silence fell over them like a thick blanket. "I .. umm .. didn't hurt you or anything?" Tom continued.

Alison smiled in reassurance. "No, not at all," she answered, a hot flush warming her face and spread down through her body, making her muscles tighten on an emptiness inside that she wanted filled. "More on the rough side than I'm used to, but," She bit her lower lip nervously and again paused at the brink of something, attempted to control her breathing. "But, that's what I was responding to, your intensity."

The silence was palpable, it was something physical, a vacuum drawing them together. Tom glanced along his arm, to his hand resting on the back of the couch behind Alison's head. They exchanged a glance, held it, looked away.

"Excuse me," Alison interrupted. She went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet to relieve a pressure in her bladder. She shivered with sexual tension. She closed her eyes, searched for calm and couldn't find it. 

Tom was still sitting on the couch. She went to join him then stopped, and turned towards the window. She now realized that what she thought had been a window was in fact a ceiling to floor sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony. She stepped over to it and looked out through the curtains. She unbuttoned and removed her blouse. She looked over her bare shoulder to Tom, then continued to undress herself. 

Completely naked, her clothes in a neat pile on the floor, Alison turned and faced Tom. Before she could kneel down onto the bed he was close to her, his hands on her bare hips, the small of her back, the curve of her waist. It felt endless, the way he reacquainted himself with the shape and feel of her body. His hands covered her breasts, motionless, held her. Alison shivered, lips parted, her hands on his shoulders, waited, then held him closer, their bodies pressed together in a long caress, the length of his erection against her abdomen. She had to giggle, it was unbearable.

"You realize the effect you have on me?" Tom whispered. 

Alison ran her tongue over her dry lips, and grinned. "Yes." She looked at him, saw him staring hungrily at her. She felt it in his fingertips, pressed into her. She moved closer, caressing his body with hers. "You don't have to hurry," she whispered in his ear. And yet, when their embrace tightened, when he brushed aside her hair and held her cheek, when she felt immersed in him, in his wet mouth and probing tongue, when her mind spiraled into chaos, and as they fell to the bed, Alison doubted that she could follow her own advice.

By the time Alison was on her back Tom was already buried inside her.

* * * * *

The pillow didn't have the familiar odour of herself, or of Greg. Alison couldn't recognize where she was in the sounds that grew out of the night, the irregular rhythm of night traffic, distant sounds that echoed through the unfamiliar building, a flushed toilet, footsteps, a closed door far away. The refrigerator shuddered at the other end of the apartment. She opened her eyes. She was on her left side, her right arm wrapped around a pillow. Her left arm extended away from her, palm up, hanging over the edge of the mattress. Her left leg bent at the knee and her right leg crossed the left ankle and also hung over the edge of the mattress. She felt the texture of a sheet on her naked skin. She rarely slept completely naked, and the awareness of her own naked body frightened her. Her first impulse was to get dressed and to get back home. She felt vulnerable, cold. She could just as easily have been outside in a dark alleyway, for all the difference it made to how exposed she now felt. 

Alison raised her left arm and held onto her own shoulder, hugged herself. An emotional longing welled up inside her. She wished she was with Greg and to cuddle, sheltered, in his embrace. She drew her fingernails along her upper arm, watched her own hand as though it belonged to someone else, to Greg. She closed her eyes and imagined that her arm was his, and gave herself a gentle squeeze of encouragement as he would have done. 

She sensed Tom nearby, could hear his quiet breathing. How did she end up here anyway, at this time of night? She hadn't anticipated this, spending the night here. Earlier, when they finished, when the fire of sexual arousal began to dim, exposing both the physical and also the psychological fatigue, it had been easy to follow that slow fading of desire down into sleep. 

But that was then. Now, she was awake and in a state of mind that did not fit the room she was in or the person she was in bed with. She held onto herself and stared unfocused into the room's shadows. She remembered things .. images of naked bodies, intimate acts, even a less charged and less desperate moment together. Yet the memories felt sterile. No longer inside of that intense shared bubble of physical intimacy, she again felt disconnected from what she had experienced. She had an urge to slide towards Tom, to warm herself next to him, and it felt .. inappropriate.

The emotional emptiness had everything to do with her sense of isolation, alone and vulnerable in an unfamiliar place. The sexual arousal, once satisfied, had departed and had left a void within her, and she wanted to fill the void with Greg. That thought, that admission, helped her understand where she was. Not with the crystal clarity she had experienced earlier, but enough for her to find her way back to a place of calm.

She pulled her legs up in a foetal position, pulled the sheet around her exposed shoulder, hugged herself, rested her cheek on the back of her right hand. She lay in the dark, alone, listened to water bubbling through pipes somewhere in the building.

* * * * *

Alison woke with a sense of suffocating, as if she had forgotten to breathe. She inhaled deeply, then again, and relaxed. She lay on her stomach, could feel her breasts pressed into the mattress, her legs spread, her arms wrapped around a pillow. She felt something under the sheet, crawling over her back that gave her skin a tingle, just under the threshold of a tickle. It was as if someone was shining a flashlight over her body, and revealed it to her in a small moving circle of illumination. It sparkled and glowed down her side, into the hollow of her back, up the shallow valley her spine, circled the hill of a shoulder and down again, wandering slowly over her hips and her bum. It made her catch her breath, then sigh, and smile a drugged smile in half sleep. Tom was caressing her naked body.

She could already sense a small sphere of discord rising over the horizon of her waking mind. She knew what it was.

Alison let it go. "What time is it?" she mumbled through the haze of morning grogginess.

"A little after 7."

She groaned. "I wish I could spend more time waking up." She turned to face Tom. "But I hadn't planned on spending the night and I have to get home and get ready for my day."

"I understand. I hadn't planned on this either."

"Good," she smiled, relieved. "Can you do me a favor? Could you make me breakfast while I shower? To give me more time?"

"Sure. What would you like?"

"Coffee and toast .. if you have the ingredients." Tom nodded. Alison gathered up her clothes and scampered into the bathroom. She paused to look at herself in the mirror, tried to read the ambiguous expression on her own face. She hugged herself and stepped into the shower.

Cleaned and dressed, Alison sat down to the small breakfast that Tom had prepared. Now, with the rest of world expanding out around the apartment, with plans and private lives making their own demands, a cautious awkwardness separated them. 

Alison smiled, hesitant. She didn't want to have a what-next conversation, not now. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to have that sort of conversation, not now, not ever. There's no reason for a what-next. This was supposed to finish something, not to start something. She felt uneasy, she couldn't just run off. She looked over to Tom, thought a moment.

"So," Tom said, noncommittally. The ambiguity weighed heavy on both of them.

"So," Alison replied with a sigh. "I'm glad you got your closure," and she started to laugh. "Sorry, it's nerves."




Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 02



"I need to work on my vocabulary," Tom grimaced. "And you?"

"I think I understand now, what I sensed," softening the words with a smile in her eyes. "It really wouldn't have worked in the threesome, would it?"

"No, I guess not."

"I'm glad you .. I'm glad I could give it to you," she continued. That's as far as I'm going to go, she thought. "OK?" she asked.

"OK," he agreed. Reluctantly, she thought.

"I mean, I'm really glad with the way this turned out. It could have been a disaster." She hesitated again. "I just want .. now.. that it stays positive."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, but I think I get the idea."

There's more to it, she thought, and it's slipping away. She had to get out. She stood, went to the couch, put on her sandals, picked up her shoulder bag and walk towards the door. Tom met her there, opened it for her.

"Can I ask another favor of you?"

"Ask away."

"Please don't phone me." 

Tom winced. "Tough lady."

Alison was suddenly in a panic and struggled to find the right emotional tone. "I mean, a lot has happened and I just want to .. I need to think it all through. At my own pace, for myself," she said with a shake of her head and paused, looked aimlessly around the apartment. "I'm afraid of being overwhelmed again. I don't want to need to say anything, because I just don't know." 

"We could shake hands, say good bye, and leave it at that," he suggested cautiously.

Alison felt a hot rush of embarrassment, fidgeted with her shoulder bag. "I .. don't want to do that. I haven't gotten it all in order yet." Alison felt defensive, studied the floor, then looked up. "I'm only asking that you leave me alone for now. I'll get in touch with you, I can promise that much. But .. later." She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on a cheek.

"Later," he replied.

Alison fled, down the three flights of stairs, outside onto the open street. She stopped, took a deep breath, then continued walking rapidly. It took several minutes before she slowed her pace. Her eyes welled up with tears of relief. Damn me and my crying, she thought, impatiently wiped them away. 

She continued to walk towards a bus stop. Her brow furrowed, unsure of where she had been for much of the past 14 hours or more. She had been somewhere else, and now she had to get back to her own world.

It took another few minutes along the busy early morning streets for her to calm down enough to recognize a sense of euphoria. No, not an escape, but simply able to get out of that other place she had been to. To get there, and get back out. 

I did it, she told herself. She held her cheeks. 

She could hear an inner voice, giggling.



Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 03



Alison struggles to accept the experience

============

When Alison left Tom's apartment and stepped out into a fresh sunny morning she felt giddy with a sense of understanding, an intuitive grasp of feelings in their right place. The optimism did not last very long. As the morning progressed she lost grip of what she thought she understood, and her intuitive insights began to break down, to blur and fade. She focused on her daily routine, hoping it would restore a sense of stability, to disentangle herself from a dream-like experience. Instead, she felt a growing anxiety that the benefits of her adventure were slipping out of reach. By the end of the day her euphoric understanding had atrophied into a shrivelled mood of discouragement.

Worse for her mood, she had already planned to meet Greg that evening. She wondered whether it was a mistake to not have given herself a rest and recovery day on her own. That might have been the brave thing to do, but in her growing confusion she needed to talk with him. It didn't help that Greg had a late work-related meeting that day. She asked him to call her when his meeting was done, and then waited. She felt like a ship at sea during a storm, waiting for a safe passage into harbour.

Greg held the door open for her when she arrived. She turned and gave him a hug, and then tightened her embrace when he gave her shoulders a squeeze, and held onto him for several seconds, her head turned cheek resting against his shoulder.

"What's up?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and cautious concern.

Alison smiled nervously, thrown off balance by how easily he picked up on even a slight deviation from their routine greeting. "Just glad to be here," she sighed. She went into the living room and sat on the couch, waited for the tea that Greg offered to make. When he joined her she took a few sips then placed the cup onto the table. She then turned to him, crossed her legs over his, an arm around his waist, and rested her head against his shoulder. He cradled her with an arm around her shoulders, occasionally stroked her hair.

Alison didn't want to talk. Not quite yet. She needed to feel safe, to feel together before mentioning the topic that festered in her mind. Finally, sensing that she was pushing his patience, she took a deep breath, and began. "Tom phoned me earlier this week."

Greg still needed to prompt her to continue. "What about?"

"About the threesome, how I .. we .. experienced it. He wanted to talk about it, so I met him yesterday."

"And?"

More heavy silence. Alison sighed. "I spent the night at his place."

"That's quite a talk."

Alison winced, tightened her arms around Greg. In spite of herself her body responded to the memory of how that night had been spent, her insides tingling with a hint of arousal. She couldn't avoid it. The whole issue of her motivations had to do with the ambiguous feelings that had plagued her since the threesome. She had been trying all day to find a way to work through all of it, to put every stray thought and feeling in its proper place, with the same degree of clarity that she had achieved just the night before.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I thought I'd wait for you to start. But, if you need some help .."

Alison's mind spun with too many ways to start, too many thoughts and feelings to express. Was there something especially important, some observation particularly insightful? She didn't know. "I missed you," she finally said, her eyes closed, cheek against his chest.

"The staying overnight .. was that something that 'just happened', as the saying goes?"

"Yes .. sort of. I mean, when we met it really was to talk, but I knew where it might lead, considering what we were talking about."

"And the talking part?"

"He said he noticed my panic attack, and how I withdrew. He was wondering what that was all about. So was I. It was something we agreed on. It felt like something unfinished."

"So .. you finished it."

Alison held onto Greg. "Yes."

"And in all this you missed me?"

"Yes, it was afterwards. I felt so empty. I wanted to be with you."

"It sounds like your threesome reaction all over again."

Alison thought about that for a while. "It was clearer this time, two separate things. It felt like I could move from one to the other. And when the physical part felt like a dead-end, I wanted the other part."

"I don't get it. The physical part a dead end?"

"It left me feeling empty."

Greg pondered a moment. "It might be because of your usual approach to relationships. There's a logic to it."

Alison looked up at him. "Does the university philosophy department offer a course on the Logic of Sex?"

Greg smiled. "I've never heard of one. Think of it as how people think in categories. They learn to assemble their categories in different ways. With you, an emotional bond comes first. The physical involvement is a way of expressing that emotional bond. The physical part implies the prior existence of the emotional part."

"OK, I guess that's me," she replied cautiously. "I mean .. I can see how it can work that way."

"The pleasure of the physical act is only part of the larger package you've put together for yourself. The physical act filled in some of the pieces of your own complete picture but you were left with parts that weren't filled. That's the emptiness you felt afterwards."

"I don't know. I did enjoy the physical part of the threesome. And .. the physical part last night was very intense. But, I don't know. It bothers me. It .. the intensity .. seemed artificial in a way. The intensity was there only because so much was left out."

"Such as?"

"Everything else. Like what happens in extra-marital affairs. It's easy to experience them with starry-eyed bliss when you don't have to worry about the kids and god knows what else."

"You sound angry."

Alison frowned. "Maybe I am. It just sounds like a fantasy that leaves out most of what's happening in the real world. The intensity of it is only there because it's so narrow, so shallow. Intensity compared to nothing. There's nothing else there, except the physical sex itself."

"Alison, I think you are the one who is confusing things."

"No I'm not," she mumbled. She hugged him again then sat up. "Can we just go to bed?"

Greg stood. "Is that an offer?"

Alison grimaced. "Stop teasing me!" she retorted in mock exasperation, then smiled, shoulders sagged. "I'm just worn out." She headed to the bathroom to work through her pre-bed ritual while Greg cleaned up the kitchen. She undressed, pulled on one of her floppy t-shirts and curled up in bed. When Greg finally joined her she lay on her side next to him, a leg over his.

"Enough discussion for tonight?" Greg asked.

"No. I want you to finish what you said. That I was confusing things."

"I think you are .. or you are not admitting something to yourself. Just because some people can confuse sex and emotions doesn't mean it has to be that way. It's just as possible to take physical sex simply for what it is, nothing more or less, and without the hyperbole or the emotional misinterpretations."

"That's what you mean by the logic of it?"

"More or less .. how people assemble everything in their minds. There doesn't have to be a necessary connection between the emotional and the physical. You could have physical sex on its own, or love on its own, or have both sex and love at the same time. Or sex and different kinds of emotional involvement, even with a more casual friendship."

"No wonder people have problems."

"They have problems if they're looking for something in the wrong place."

"You mean, they feel an emotional emptiness and keep looking for it in just the physical intimacy?"

"That's one way it can happen."

Alison sighed. "My first-hand experience ... don't laugh!" she hissed when she felt Greg's body shake with a silent chuckle, then smiled herself. "I don't mean from my vast worldly perspective, I just mean what happened to me during the threesome. It's not easy to make sense of what's happening, with so much coming at you from different directions. But I still think the physical sex is overrated. I mean, if I get very clinical about it, I didn't experience anything special, even after I admit the intensity of it."

"I find that hard to believe. It still sounds like you're evading something."

Alison pouted defensively. "There was nothing special about it."

"Ok, then. Different. People are different. They have different styles, they express different moods. That's all part of it. I can't believe that Tom would be exactly the same as me." 

"No. He isn't," Alison murmured. She struggled to think about it. She was still too close to the experience, and the memories made her stomach flutter. She took another deep breath. "It was his .. he's more aggressive or forceful in some way."

"Mmm, sounds good. Where did I put those handcuffs?"

"That's not what I mean!" She hugged Greg, forced him to hug her in return, then continued. "I mean .. it made me feel self-conscious, aware of how I was causing it."

"Haven't you noticed what you do to me?"

Alison looked up, suddenly afraid of offending him. "Greg, I didn't mean .."

He gave her another comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. But that's my point. The sexual arousal has blended into the emotional feeling you always start with. Experiencing the sexual part on its own, stripped of the emotional bonding, I can imagine it's overwhelming."

"Not just that. I can't believe how cold I felt, even when I was .. as turned on as I was. There were moments when I felt some kind of power, to be able to make someone react that way. And ..," Alison paused, thinking.

"And?" Greg prompted after a minute. Alison responded by turning to him and kissing his cheek, then his mouth, then pulled his body closer to her the embrace evolved into a long and deeper and more passionate entwining of limbs and bodies and probing tongues. 

Alison pulled back, shuddered uneasily. 

"You're not going to start crying on me, are you?" Greg murmured.

"I can't help it," she replied, nuzzling his neck. Greg rolled towards her, on his side with Alison on her back, head pillowed on his left arm. He gently moved his hand over her t-shirt in long slow caresses from hip to shoulder.

"And? You were saying?" Greg prompted again.

"I don't know why it's hard to admit this .. but you're right. It was different. It did have something to do with liking the difference."

"See what you're doing? You started off by saying the physical part was a dead-end, a minor detail that you are quick to dismiss as irrelevant. And then you turn around and criticize it for lacking emotional or personal depth. And now you get to enjoying the pleasure in the difference."

Alison shook her head with a sense of discouragement. "There were moments, even last night, when it was crystal clear in my mind. But I can't express it. It scares me."

"So, on the one hand you feel an emotional distance which is a sort of cold power and that is part of the physical, sexual intensity. That's where you feel an attraction."

"To the experience," she replied defensively. "An attraction to the situation. It's a bubble I entered and left. Inside, it was fine. Outside of it and I felt lost in a maze of feelings. I felt alone and isolated. I felt schizophrenic the whole time."

"We're back to that again. I think you're a victim of thinking in extremes. Either it is sex as an expression of feeling or it is an emotionless physical act which leaves you empty once it's done. You've never been in a casual sex relationship, have you? No long string of one-night stands?"

"No. So you're saying I'm creating my own schizophrenic reaction?"

"You don't know how you can enjoy the physical sex as an end in itself. You don't have to. You're not obliged to, there's no legal requirement for people to have sex without any emotional connection. But there is a third alternative. You even said it when we were looking at the photos."

Alison shivered nervously. "What did I say?" She knew what it was.

"You said you struggled to find something .. personal .. remember how you couldn't find the right word for it?" Alison didn't reply. "That's the other alternative, a middle ground between your two extremes. There can be something, a kind of sharing, but not a deeper emotional bond."

"I know," she finally admitted. "It scares me."

* * * * *

Following that conversation Alison let the matter drop, and spent a week settling into the routine of her daily life. She thought that she had to stabilize her home base, outside the maze and far from that alternate reality hidden inside. She thought she could feel secure in that maze of conflicting feelings as long as she was confident she could get back out into her own reality.

A second week started. In spare moments Alison's thoughts touched on some of what she had discussed with Greg. A simple recollection of that night made her feel uneasy, unbalanced, thinking about 'it', about what happened. She tried to create a map for herself, to get through the labyrinth of confused feelings to that other place, and immerse herself in it, let herself feel the attraction. Do that, and somehow get back out through a turbulence of conflicting emotions, back to the calm and stability of her daily life. The exercise, rehearsed and repeated, soothed her. 

By the end of the second week she was convinced that there was nothing more to understand. Every piece was comfortably in its proper place.

And then, one evening, while reading alone in her apartment, one small marauding thought crept out of the darker corners of her subconscious mind and ambushed her tranquillity. 

She glanced up from the page she was reading and her eyes fell on her mobile phone. It triggered a moment of curiosity whether Tom would call. It wasn't even a question seeking an answer. She smiled to herself and returned to her reading.

A while later the thought returned. Alison held the book, closed on her lap, and paused to consider it. She quickly realized that her curiosity was not in whether he would call. She was wondering whether he wanted to call, whether he was even now sitting somewhere - on the couch in his apartment - struggling with his own memories of what they'd done together. She held the thought, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

She tried to distract herself with the book she was reading. A few minutes passed. The thought stubbornly demanded attention. Alison again put down the book and stared at the opposite wall. In her mind she stepped hesitantly back into the labyrinth of feelings that enclosed that other place. She sensed something hidden behind the thought whether he wanted to contact her. She probed deeper into the maze and found an image of why he would want to contact her. His eyes, the expression in his eyes, the intensity. And the tension in his touch, his hands on her, the response to her body, his hunger for her. Her lips parted as she let that image fill her, and a flush of heat rushed through her that made her catch her breath. Was he now struggling with that same desire? Whether he would phone or not reshaped itself into a new question: whether he was struggling with the desire to be with her.

The strain of it grew in Alison. Her insides fluttered. It began in her stomach, then her abdomen began to coil restlessly. The more she held the image, the more liquid her insides became, until they seemed to collapse and leave a hollow ache between her thighs. Her head spun, her chest tightened. She sat frozen, overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling. 

Before she could recognize what was happening, what had begun as a casual thought whether Tom would phone her had transformed into the reality of her own sexual arousal. The reality struck her like a physical blow. She cupped her mound with the palm of a hand and squeezed gently, to placate the insistent ache. She stood, paced the room, sat down, stood again. She had said she'd call him. She had forgotten. The connection was still in place. That was the problem.

She decided, but struggled to act on the decision. Every time she looked at her phone the implications of what she wanted to do flooded into her. It wasn't fear. It was anticipation. She was so charged with sexual anticipation that picking up the phone became an act of foreplay, the first move towards stripping off her clothes .. holding the phone in one hand, tapping in the call number ... and pressing herself against his naked body, to feel him thrust into her.

She dropped the phone. Alison shook her head with impatience, then held her temples in her hands. Calm down, she repeated. She picked up the phone and tried again.

"Hello? Alison? How are you? I've been thinking about you, wondering if you were going to call."

"I said I would."

"Sure, but doing is something else. You left me with another cliff-hanger experience."

"Oh .. is that our new way of discussing lack of closure?"

"Maybe .. a different way of putting it. But seriously, how are you? You said you wanted to get things in order."

"More or less, I suppose. How about you?"

"Fine, easier maybe, except for the waiting. I didn't need to get anything in order." He paused a moment. Silence .. as prelude. "Nice memories, though."

"Yes .. it was that," Alison replied quietly. The understated nice memories forced their way to the front of her mind. She felt her hand shaking. More silence crackled and buzzed along the invisible lines of connection between them. 

Alison wondered how to say what she wanted to say next. She dismissed side-tracks about having another chat. She dismissed asking him if he wanted her to visit. She dismissed asking him if she could visit. Keep it simple, she told herself. Just say what you want, she told herself. OK, not everything, not I want you to ravage me again.

"I'd like to come over," she said. Alison sat, alone in her apartment, eyes closed, heart pounding, telephone held to her ear, and listened to Tom's voice. Let him decide for himself, not that there is any doubt, she thought. 

"Sure, of course," Tom replied. Endless seconds dragged past. "I was hoping you would say that."

Alison felt as though she was eavesdropping on a conversation at the far end of a long hallway. "Um .. OK then .. some time this week? I could come over around 7 or so."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Yes," she heard herself say, and sighed with relief. No more waiting. "Yes. Tomorrow evening is fine. I .. I'll be having supper somewhere else first."

"Good, I'll take that into account. See you tomorrow then?"

Phones disconnected. Alison sat, arms folded around herself. She had to stand. She had to go into the bathroom and study her face in the mirror. Someone was looking back at her, a puzzled look on her face, wondering what the person she was looking at was thinking.

* * * * *

Once the admission was made to Greg and, more importantly, to herself, her decision had felt both calculated and yet unpremeditated in an effortless sort of way. There was something about how she had responded to the experience that made a repetition inevitable, like watching a favourite film for the second or third time. To understand it. To get things right.

While walking down the street towards Tom's apartment, Alison thought she knew what she wanted to repeat. She tried to reduce everything to one thought, one key observation. She was turned on by something in him, by his own desire for her. A connection, a circle closed. She wanted to release herself into it. But, how do you let yourself go physically?

She was less sure about what was going on in Tom's mind. She sensed that he was holding something back. She had thought of more than one explanation for his sexual motives. Her own physical charms notwithstanding - and she smiled to herself when this crossed her mind - she wondered whether he was being turned on by her already in a relationship, that he was intruding on forbidden territory. If that's what it takes, she thought, then I'll have to tell him that Greg doesn't know I'm doing this. Alison stopped in the street, her hands folded, thumbs pressed to her lips. I won't bring it up if he doesn't, she thought. OK, Greg .. sort of .. doesn't know I'm here .. at this exact moment, so it's not really manipulation, just .. let Tom have his own fantasies if that's what's required.




Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 03



She continued walking. Another part of her, that sense of power in the situation, made her feel defiantly independent. She announced her arrival at the entrance intercom and began walking up the three flights of stairs. Her own resolve gave her a sense of calm. She floated up the stairs and met Tom who waited at the open door to his apartment. 

Alison stepped past him and into .. she looked about and the sense of familiarity was like viewing something through a dense fog. The bed at the far end. She stepped towards the part of the open studio plan she thought of as the living room. She heard Tom's voice and turned, smiled and suddenly shy. He asked if she wanted some tea. No, maybe .. fruit juice? 

She removed a light summer jacket and dropped it and her shoulder bag onto the couch. She wore her normal casual - jeans, a white t-shirt. Her long hair was loose, an evening breeze having given it a winsome tangle around her shoulders, framed her face. She stood by the bookshelves looked through them to the bed, the pillows fluffed up and the bed cover in place. He must have been expecting company, she thought wryly, to tidy the place up.

Alison noticed a glass of apple juice in her hand, and took a sip, glanced up and smiled at Tom. She put the glass on a bookshelf and stepped over to the balcony doors, looked down on the evening street. She turned back to the room, smiled again in eye contact with Tom, looked down and immediately back up to his face. Her lips parted and she might have said something in answer to a question. She wasn't sure. Her mind was on something else.

Tom placed his hands on her hips and Alison responded by placing her hands on his arms. He pulled her t-shirt out of her jeans. Alison slid her hands over his shoulders, down his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His hands held her bare waist then slid up her body pulling up the t-shirt. Alison raised her arms to allow him to pull the t-shirt over her head. They unfastened each other's belts, undid clasps, opened zippers, slowly taking turns removing articles of clothing.

Then, facing each other, bodies naked, they began to touch, first with fingertips then palms of open hands, then closer, in an embrace. They carried each other down onto the bed, naked body caressed naked body, thighs against thighs, breasts and firm nipples pressed against chest, fingernails dragged slowly across bare skin. Hard erection against her abdomen, brushed against the insides of her thighs, probing and pushing against her, gliding along her wet, swollen slit, her hips thrusting in eager invitation. Alison sensed he was working himself up, not her, and yet he responded to her own arousal, how she pushed and twisted and rubbed her body against his. She would wait as long as he could, bathe in the torture if that's what it took.

Alison was so wet that she almost couldn't feel him when he entered her, except for a sense of something expanding inside her. They reacted together, a vocal release, a mix of surprised gasp and animal groan, and then they both laughed softly, surprised by their shared reaction. She tightened her muscles, pulled up her knees and gripped him with her thighs, felt his erection embedded in the warm, wet folds of her vagina. They lay motionless, almost not daring to move. "God, I've been waiting for this," Tom whispered. 

He shifted, spread his legs under Alison's and worked deeper. Alison raised her legs to take him in. "Me too," she whispered in reply, and felt a surge of relief, the uncertainty and waiting in the past. "Don't move yet, or I'll come."

He kissed her neck. "Is that a problem?"

"Just for a moment .. to get used to how you feel inside." 

The moment passed, both of them poised, suspended, and then Tom began to thrust slowly, and carried them both over the edge. Alison tumbled willingly into a weightless free fall.

* * * * *

Later, in the apartment dimly lit by the streetlights, they rested, Alison on her back, Tom on his stomach to her right. "Why were you laughing?" he asked.

"When?"

"No time in particular. You just laugh."

"Sometimes I just feel good," She said. "Sometimes a funny thought pops into my mind."

"Like what?"

Alison tried to recall. She rolled onto her side, to face him, and absently placed her right hand on the back of Tom's head and stroked his hair. She felt a sharp pang of self-consciousness. Greg was right, she thought. I'm losing my way in the third alternative. She uneasily remembered her struggle with the idea of making it personal, not simply the physical contact but, somehow, an involvement at .. what? She shivered, a nervous unease with the situation. She forced herself to let her fingers rest on Tom's shoulder, not knowing what bothered her. Is there a line I do not want to cross, she wondered. How do I know where it is or what it is? 

"Like what?" Tom repeated.

"Like what?" Alison was pulled from her private reverie. "Oh, when I laugh .. um .. there was one moment when I felt an orgasm build and just when I reached a peak it left me feeling even more aroused. So I thought an orgasm is supposed to make you feel better, not worse .. and I laughed."

Tom slid a hand between Alison's thighs and ran two fingers over her moist slit. "So I'm making things worse for you, am I?"

Alison pressed into his hand. "Yes, a lot worse."

"It's a wonder you returned. You must be a masochist."

His light caresses held Alison in a dizzy state of euphoria. "I thought," she replied. "I thought that you need to repeat something to get it right. The first time is for making the mistakes, the second time is to learn from them, and the third time is for enjoying it all."

Tom looked up at Alison. "In that case, I can't wait for the next time."

Alison tightened, felt panic that he misunderstood what she meant. Tom propped himself on an elbow and continued to caress her body, but something about his manner changed. More than that, she could feel his cock quickly harden. What is he thinking, she wondered. Why's he reacting this way, what's he thinking that is arousing him? She didn't know, and the uncertainty both frightened her and intrigued her. 

Whatever it is, she thought, it almost instantly got him into a state of arousal. She hesitantly slipped a hand down between them and held his stiff cock in her hand, and pumped it slowly. Should I do this, she wondered. If I do this, will he think I am telling him he is correct?

Does he now think I'm going to be here more often, that he's going to have the chance to .. what? 

Is that it? Alison wondered.

And yet .. she wanted to encourage him. She still held his erection in her hand and tugged gently in invitation, guided him to position himself between her spread thighs. She moved the head over her slit, lubricating it with the product of her own arousal, pulled at him and Tom pushed and entered her. Alison watched him penetrate her and it caught her breath .. that paradoxical mix of relief and increased sexual tension, watching him possess her, watching herself give him permission.

He rolled his hips and slid deeper. Alison gasped, arched her back, as he buried himself in her, and shifted his hips raised himself up on his hands on each side of her head, bent over her, taking the intimacy she had just offered to him. The truth of the matter, she realized, was that the thought of his lustful response to her offering herself gave her a rush of desire that was overwhelming.

She lay in the dark room, on his bed, her arms spread and legs wide, her naked body there, under him. She wanted to feel it, to hear it, to taste and see it. He withdrew almost completely and bore back into her and she gasped. He repeated, slow and deep and hard, and each time Alison moaned or sighed in reply. Should I tell him, she wondered, should I say something or has he figured it out? 

She looked up at him and he was intense with concentration. It won't be enough, Alison smiled to herself. It won't be enough as he increased his rhythm, shifted position, drove faster, paused, collapsed on her and held her breasts, bit her shoulder.

Alison felt like a spectator in the middle of a violent storm, dragged about the bed, his surging passion relentless. It won't be enough, she sensed. He was out of her, then behind her and into her again, her back held against his chest his arms wrapped around her, one hand fondling her soft and firm breasts, the other pressing onto her mound.

It won't be enough, she thought, while he pulled her to the edge of the bed and he knelt on the floor, gripped her hips, rammed into her, exhausting himself. He tried to ease his pace, to keep himself on the edge, to prolong the pleasure. He slowed, paused for breath, paused to hold her waist, to feel her panting body, to watch her chest swell with each breath she fought for, her rising and falling breasts taunting him, to feel her writhing in response to his pulsing shaft moving deep in her soft warm wet flesh.

Alison wanted to say something but couldn't, couldn't speak through her ragged breathing and the sounds that came from deep in her throat. 

He leaned back to look at her face and she recognized the urgency in his eyes, the strain on his face. He held her face in his hands, his body weighing down on her, his thrusts hard and spastic. Alison felt so alive. She urged him with her writhing body and grasping arms. She felt his muscles shaking. She held him. "Yes," she whispered, "yes." in encouragement, then held his violent kiss and felt him ejaculate into her. He broke the kiss, groaning. Alison cried out, feeling his orgasm shake his body, felt his orgasm engulf her, heard him moan with each hard push of his body into hers, six, seven times. 

Only when he began to slow did she comprehend that the excitement she felt was her own immanent orgasm. It had been there, waiting, and she urged it to fulfillment with short rapid thrusts onto Tom's erection. When it at last broke in a bright golden burst of pulses it took her somewhere, away from Tom, away from their writhing bodies, off the bed, out of the room, into a place of her own.

She drifted into semi-consciousness. In an odd way she felt empty, then recognized that she was emptied of the physical need, freed from the thinking, and from the waiting, and the anticipation. Alison found herself in a state of satisfaction that resembled fulfillment, that the anticipation and uncertainty had been vanquished, that it was meant for her to arrive at this place of calm, this lack of need.

Her awareness returned to the room, to the bed she was on, to Tom's presence, a hand resting on her breast, soft kisses up her neck, along her cheek. He kept a slow rhythmic thrusting past her orgasmic peak, and kept her in that tranquil state of mind. 

His slow and deep thrusts triggered another slow build to another peak, as though she was turned on by her own sense of contentment. She struggled to reach it, threw her arms around Tom and pulled herself off the bed, pulled herself to him while she thrust her pelvis over that hard rod buried in her, struggled to pull him deeper into her, deeper into a last vestige of physical need, and to release her from it. Her head buried between his neck and shoulder, biting him, and another surge of relief when he responded, met her quickening tempo, helped her, carried her over the final barrier, bodies meeting each other like hammer blows until the resistance broke and shattered. 

Alison released Tom, fell back onto the bed arms spread, exhausted, received Tom's body into her, the strain drained from her, flowed out in a calming wave of contentment. "Ohmygod,"she gasped, and closed her eyes. She felt limp, boneless. She felt Tom closer to her, still in her, still moving in her, slow gentle pulses of movement. 

Her eyes still closed, and in the dark she sensed the physical proximity, his warm breath on her face, the sound of his breathing, their bodies still hot and wet with perspiration pressed together, a softening mass of his cock still inside her own body.

She relaxed, extended her left leg, her right leg still raised to the side, Tom still inside her. Something changed. Something about the way he cupped and held the soft mound of her breast. It felt close, she turned her head slightly, a gesture that might have led to a deep passionate kiss when in the throes of intercourse. Now, she experienced the same intensity but without the tension. It felt subtle, the intensity rippled through her and she shifted her hips to better feel Tom. 

He pulled her to him, and kissed her. In that moment she felt his cock begin to enlarge and stiffen inside her, to expand and fill her. His erection became full and he began to slowly move inside her. She felt the electric energy of him, the way he held her, his erection hard and deep in her again. Alison sensed a dark cloud of panic, her heart beating loud in her ears. It was a possession that surprised and frightened her in its closeness. Alison wanted to resist. She forced herself to return the light pressure of his kiss, neither deep nor passionate but to acknowledge and admit how his body responded to hers.

Later, she thought. Accept it now and worry about it later.

He rocked slowly in her, barely moving at all, the shaft of his erection simply there, filled her, claimed a presence. 

Alison lay still. She was afraid to open her eyes to meet his, to see what he might be thinking. She met the slow movement of his body with hers. Accept it as part of the complete physical act, she told herself. Accept it as part of the love-making. Maybe that's why she had felt so empty last time. She hadn't let the act complete itself, she hadn't allowed herself a slow exit.

She felt another wave of arousal begin to build in her and then to gently fade, like a distant echo. Tom slowed, stopped. 

They finally reached the end. 

Time passed. Alison waited. She thought she should acknowledge something, not sure what or how, but opened her eyes with a sense of trepidation, and then felt relief that the moment was postponed. Tom had turned his head, and had drifted into sleep.

She eased herself from under him, rolled over onto her side, and gave herself up to sleep as well.

Alison woke into darkness. Tom was on his side turned away from her. She felt his back against hers, an incidental touch, a reminder of his presence. She slept again.

* * * * *

Alison woke, alert, in a room lit by the morning sun, and was immediately aware of how drained of tension she felt. Tom was still asleep beside her, on his stomach, head turned from her. She noticed the lack of that sense of emptiness. Different expectations, she thought. It was more than that. She had let more into the experience, let it rise and peak, but also to participate in letting it fade afterwards. She wondered if this made the transition less abrupt, less of a shock of entry and exit.

After showering, and dressing, and while having breakfast, the triviality of their conversation made her wonder whether they were again both avoiding something. The same sense of removal was present, as though she had woken into a different reality from where she had been the night before. As if, now, awake and preparing for the new day, it all had nothing to do with the previous night. She sensed this in the way they interacted, as strangers engaged in polite conversation about inconsequential topics. She sat at the table, followed her private thoughts and observed herself talking as though she was listening in on a conversation between two people in a restaurant. She wondered whether it had been a good idea to spend the night there, whether it would have been better to leave that other world while still awake, and avoid needing to wake together into this alternate existence. 

Alison peered through the polite pretense of their interaction, and for a moment looked questioningly at Tom. He noticed, a self-conscious pause in their idle chatter. She was tempted to ask him what he thought about all this, what was motivating him, what he felt and wanted. The temptation was easily and rapidly dismissed. Almost as an instinctive reflex, the way you might pull your hand away from a hot sharp object.

Still, their morning exchange felt artificial when set against the previous night's intimacy. There were certain moments ... she recalled dreamily. Alison felt another reflexive withdrawal, another danger, sensed and avoided.

Alison helped with the simple clean-up, shrugged off Tom's protests of his role as host and hers as guest. They exchanged cautious side glances, calculating each other's mood. She went to collect her shoulder bag and jacket. Tom waited for her by the door. "You said something last night ..." he said.

"About that," Alison winced. "I only meant that .. only that once isn't always the best." She stood with her back to the door, arms by her side, shoulder bag in one hand, her jacket in the other.

He stepped closer to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and nudged her against the door, stroked her neck, held her face in his hands. He paused, to let her stop him, while she stood passively, arms by her sides. He moved closer and kissed her, a gentle pressure, and a moment later Alison returned the pressure. Then, slowly, lips parted, and a moist warm embrace of open mouths. He cupped her breasts, eased out of the lingering kiss. "Just to let you know, I want you to return." His hands remained briefly on her breasts, massaging them gently. "You don't have to say when, but I'd like it if you could say that you want to return, and will."

Alison studied him. She thought that if there had been the slightest indication of arrogance in his manner, a smug expectation that she was powerless to refuse him, then she'd be out the door without saying another word. She didn't see any of that. What she did see was the same intensity that drew her in the first place, an intensity and .. something else. An electric energy that flowed from him that she responded to. She sensed that she closed a circuit. She held his questioning gaze. 

"I want to," she answered. "And I will. Soon."



Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 04



=================

Author's note:

In addition to the generic 'Erotic Couplings' category, this chapter also fits the 'Romance' category.

*****

A confession of love

================

Alison wondered whether she had made a mistake. The simple admission to Tom that she would return had the unsettling effect of making that fact integral to her daily life. What had once been loitering in the back of her mind was now a constant distraction. She began having lapses of concentration, drifted out of conversations with friends. The only way she could fend off too much curiosity from girlfriends was by chuckling knowingly at teasing remarks that she was spending too many nights with Greg. 

She struggled to find refuge in evenings on her own at her apartment. She sat on her couch, the TV making noises, while she thought through what had happened. There was one moment in particular, when she had mentioned the value in repeating experiences. She continued to play back the moment in her thoughts, how Tom responded, how quickly he became hard. Why did he react that way, as though he had been released from an inner inhibition? 

Worse, it had turned her on to see him react that way, and she flushed with the realization that the memory of that moment continued to arouse her.

There was something else. The second time she had forced herself to participate in the post-orgasm cooling down period. It bothered her because it felt correct to do so, because it had helped her feel less empty. But it also felt uneasily more personal. She knew the thoughts were contradictory. Her own motivations were contradictory. Her effect on Tom intrigued her, and aroused her. That she had been, nervously, holding back afterwards might mean that she was, somehow, holding back during the sex with Tom. Maybe he notices, maybe he thinks I'm still fearful, she thought. Maybe he's holding back because he doesn't want me to panic again. She wanted to let go, to release herself fully into the experience. 

She lay alone on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering. She smiled to herself, while a lazy hand drifted down between her thighs. God, if it's the way it is now, what would it be like if we both let go completely? Her hand slipped inside her panties. She felt herself wet. She - they - had to get past that barrier.

She thought of a way to do it.

* * * * *

Alison had just finished showering, and was rubbing her long hair between a towel when her phone chimed an in-coming call. She went over to the phone, still drying herself, and checked the call number. It was Tom. Alison hesitated. She thought she didn't want even more of an intrusion into her regular life. This thing with Tom was something that she wanted to deal with separately, on its own.

The call signal sounded again. A different voice reasoned that he wasn't here physically in her own world. The phone link, the voice continued to reason, is to that other world of private experience. He won't be here, you will be there. There, somewhere else in his world, where all this is happening anyway.

Another chime. She picked up the phone.

"Hi."

"Hi .. Thought I'd call .. I was wondering how you were doing."

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good. I thought you wouldn't mind my calling. What with you saying we'd get together again .. "

"No, it's OK. It's nice that you called." Alison walked to her bedroom, wiping beads of water from her naked skin.

"I was thinking about you. I wanted to hear your voice, make sure you still exist."

Alison smiled, stretched out on her bed. "Yes, I'm still here." She continued to slowly dry herself, holding the towel in one hand and phone in the other.

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm in my apartment."

"Not doing anything in particular?"

"No, don't worry," she said in a reassuring tone. "I was sitting on the couch, reading."

"I'm not interrupting? It sounded as though someone was with you."

"No. What gave you that idea?"

"Because you're talking so quietly."

Alison paused. "Am I? So are you."

"Oh." Tom paused. "I guess I am. I'm on my bed, and with the phone next to my ear it feels like you're right next to me. If you were lying beside me we'd be talking more softly, wouldn't we?"

Alison smiled again. "Yes, I guess we would." She stopped drying herself, but continued to draw the towel loosely over her body, tickling herself with the coarse fabric.

"What are you wearing?"

Alison replied with a gentle laugh. "You're lying in bed, imagining me beside you, having a whispered conversation. Since when have I ever worn anything in your bed?" She wondered whether she was being mean, teasing him. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"You're giving me some delicious thoughts."

Alison chuckled. "I can imagine. So .. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt." Alison lay on her back, head and shoulders propped up against a pillow. She tossed the towel to one side and looked down over her naked body, conscious of the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. The movement felt erotic. "What would you do if I was there beside you?" she asked.

"I'd be on my side, looking at you while we talk."

"Just looking at me?"

"Looking at your eyes .. all of you. And I'd be caressing you."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Everywhere. Your hips. Your stomach. I'd slide my hand under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin."

Alison touched herself, her fingertips following the curves and hollows of her hips and waist, the flat of her abdomen.

"Not only look at you, but to touch you, to feel the shape of you, hold your breasts."

"I'm not wearing a bra," Alison whispered. She cupped a breast in her own hand, squeezed, closed her eyes. She heard him release a deep breath.

"I think I'd very quickly want to undress you," he continued, stress in the tone of his voice.

Alison giggled. "Take my t-shirt off and my jeans off?"

"Everything."

"And now you're imagining me there, naked beside you?" She tilted the phone away from her mouth, and took a deep breath.

"Yes," he murmured. She could hear his breathing become quicker. "What would you like me to do?"

Alison gripped her mound and squeezed gently, rubbed herself. "What do I like?"

"Yes."

Alison hesitated. He must already know. They'd done it. Saying it, putting it into shared words, would somehow make it more real. 

Silence. "You still there?" Tom prompted.

"Of course. I was thinking," she answered. Should I, she asked herself, doubting. Of course, I'm inside that other world, she reassured herself. She slid a middle finger along her groove, felt herself hot and slippery wet. "There's a lot I like."

"Such as?"

Alison held the phone at arm's length, while she again squeezed her mound, stimulating her clit, and tried to suppress a groan. She brought the phone back to her ear. "Such as how it feels when you first enter me," she whispered.

"The first time I entered you? You mean during the threesome?"

"No, I mean each first time. Every time you enter me. It's like," she paused, shivered, struggled to control her breathing, and continued to slowly finger herself. "It's like .. crossing a boundary, two bodies finally .. together. It gives me a rush. Even more than what comes next."

"You're giving me a rush."

"Yeah? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking of you naked, under me. And I'm pressing my cock against you, and then I slide into you."

"Mmm, like that, slow."

"I can feel you hot and wet, tight around me."

Alison again head the phone at arm's length. She ached, deliciously. Another moment to control her breathing. "Yes," she sighed. "When you enter .. and how you look."

"How do I look?"

"Like you can't bear it."

"God. Jesus, Alison .."

"I like seeing you like that, wanting me." She heard him, and giggled. "Are you playing with yourself?"

"Maybe." 

She laughed, softly. She fingered herself slowly. "That's OK," she whispered. "Imagine being inside me, moving inside me. I like how that feels. I like seeing you want it."

Tom groaned. "Come over."

"It's too late."

"What difference does it make? You can stay the night."

Alison winced, remembering the morning after awkwardness. "No. Next week."

"It'll be agony to need to wait that long."

"Well, finish. I'm right here beside you, whispering into your ear .." deep breath .. "while you're moving inside of me." Pause, fingering herself. "I can raise my legs and take you deeper .. would you like that?"

"Alison ..." She heard him groan. She waited, her moist fingertips roamed up her body, drew circles around her taut nipples. She ached. Tom, breathless, asked "When, next week?"

"I don't know. I'll have to check. Are you all right?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm good. How about tomorrow?"

"No, I can't. Friday."

"Wednesday."

Alison laughed playfully. "Thursday. Maybe. I'll let you know."

"OK. I think I can survive three days."

Alison disconnected the phone and tossed it aside. She ached. She thrust two fingers into her wet cunt, rolled onto her stomach, fucked her hand, and buried her face in the pillow when she peaked, the pillow muffling her cry.

She lay still for several minutes, regaining her breath, searched for a sense of calm. She lay on her stomach, cheek on pillow and stared off into an unfocused distance. Damn it, she muttered to herself.

* * * * *

Alison had already planned to meet with Greg the next evening. They went out for dinner, to brainstorm a vacation together at the end of summer. Somewhere warm and by the sea. "Somewhere hot and wet," Alison joked. She had a habit of imagining what she called porn commercials, putting a raunchy explicitness to the innuendo seen on TV. "Sounds like a sex break," she parodied. "Feeling tense? Need some relief? Need something hot and wet?" Some of that too, Greg grinned in reply, playing to her weird sense of humor.

In spite of talking about vacation plans, Alison felt uneasy for much of the evening. Something else was on her mind that she wanted to discuss with Greg. Something more immediate, more important. She wanted to bring it up somewhere less confrontational, not in a restaurant negotiating across a table. She wanted to wait until they were back at his apartment, safe, cuddled together in bed.

And so it went, the evening truncated by her wish to get to something more urgent in her mind. Spooning together in bed, Alison held onto his arms around her.

"Well ..?" Greg finally prompted.

Alison sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Afraid so." He gave her a brief squeeze. "Out with it."

"OK." She hesitated. "This is just a theoretical question, OK?"

"Fine."

"A hypothetical situation."

"I'm listening."

"I was .. wondering .. what you think about me seeing Tom." She tightened, braced herself for the reply. Waited. "Greg?"

"Have you been thinking about this?"

"A bit." Silence. "Greg?"

"Give me a couple of minutes to catch up to you."

"It's just an idea .."

"That's all?"

"Yes. I'm serious about this being an hypothesis. Your opinion matters. That's why I'm asking. Don't try to second guess a right answer. There isn't one. OK? Just tell me what you think."

"I know. I know you're not playing games." Greg sighed. "I suppose .. it depends .. but I suppose it would change things in some way."

"What?" Alison asked shakily.

"We're not living together. I don't usually ask what you're doing with your own time. We haven't really had that conversation yet. But there are always trade-offs when you have to deal with degrees of commitment."

"What?" She turned in his arms, and faced him. "What are you talking about?"

"About you seeing Tom. I've been in non-exclusive relationships before. They need a different sort of balance from me."

"No. No no no. That's not what I meant."

Greg held her eyes, puzzled. He felt tense. "Oh .. what then?"

"I didn't mean another relationship. I meant .. just .."

"Is this still the threesome on your mind?"

"Yeah," she smiled weakly.

"Still something you can't figure out?"

"It's complicated. I understand the you and me part of it." She nestled into him. "I don't know what the rest of it is."

"Even when we've already discussed it?"

"Everything keeps blending together. It's hard to keep track of what's what."

"So you want to give it another try?"

"Yeah .. sort of. It's about how I react and why. Not so much about him." Greg remained silent, thinking. "Greg?" Alison prompted. "Is it about your other .. what did you say .. non-exclusive relationship? Did something happen?"

"Umm, no, I wasn't thinking about that. That was a friends with benefits situation, and she also had another friend with benefits. It wasn't an issue for me, at first. Then I got more attached, to the point where I realized that I would have liked a deeper level of commitment."

"That's what you mean by a different balance?"

"Yes. I was number two, in the way she set priorities. It made me realize that I wanted a number one level of commitment. If not with her, then somewhere else. So I let it fade."

Alison stroked his furrowed brow. "You're frowning. Bad memories?"

"No, it wasn't an unpleasant situation. Just .. a situation that I didn't want to be in any longer."

"That's what you thought about first when I asked my question."

"Your question sounded like it. But that's not what I was thinking about. I was trying to recall our conversation about the threesome, how you got confused by what you were experiencing. About you always having had relationships where emotional bonding came first."

"It's new to me, the physical part on its own."

"Life has a way of throwing surprises at you."

"I know." Alison gave him another tight squeeze. "It didn't bother you, did it?"

"What?"

"Seeing me alone with him."

"You weren't exactly alone with him."

"I mean the serial twosome part. I know I panicked and chickened out, but if I did continue I would have been focused on him, alone in that way," She smiled hesitantly, impishly, feeling uncertain.

Greg acknowledged with a rueful smile of his own.

"I bet you would have been turned on," she teased, giving Greg a quick kiss.

"Alright .. I was already turned on, even if you didn't go solo with him. I'm not sure it's something I'd want a lot of, but seeing you so aroused in that way, letting yourself go - yeah, I was turned on by it. If the two of you continued, I don't think I would have minded. I assumed something like that would happen."

"But you're not sure?"

"I thought about it, played out the whole scene with just the two of you having sex. In my imagination, no problems. When I say I'm not sure I only mean that reality can be different. It can throw some surprises at you. You don't really know until it happens."

Alison grinned slyly.

"Wait a minute," Greg frowned. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being conned? That's what you're asking about Tom, isn't it? You can't be sure until it happens, whatever it is?"

"No. But thanks for the idea," she grinned, kissing him again. She reached down to find Greg semi-hard. "I knew it. Someone is still turned on." She stroked the staff to full rigidity. She bit playfully at his chin.

She wiggled and shoved to get Greg between her thighs, spread in invitation. "So you get turned on by .. seeing me turned on? Is that the idea?"

"Something like that." Greg rubbed his stiff cock along her inner thighs. He could feel the wet spot. "Can't you tell, by the positions I like? It turns me on, watching you."

She kissed him slowly, rolling her pelvis into him. "So you're saying that you're lazy," she teased. "And want someone else to do the work?" 

"Not seeing someone fuck you, but watching you while you're being fucked."

She bit his ear. "You and your sweet-talking philosophical nuances," she breathed. "Make me come." 

Greg moved over her. Alison guided him with small movements of her pelvis, her arms around his shoulders. Alison raised her bum to take him, and he slid into her. They lay still for a moment, savouring the embrace.

"I want to look at you when I come," Alison said.

"You think you can do that?"

"I'll try."

They moved together. Alison held his head, forced him to keep looking at her while he pushed her towards an orgasm. She struggled with what was building in her, what was gaining strength. It came in peaks and small explosions, forcing her to involuntarily arch her back, or throw back her head. Each time she fought her way back to Greg, held her face close to his, holding his eyes with hers.

"I .. I'm close," she gasped. Greg thrust hard and deep in a way he knew would push her over the edge. "Close .." she moaned, eyelids fluttering. "I'm .. clo .." and could not finish as her body began to shake. 

She winced, eyes squeezed shut.

* * * * *

The next day Alison texted a message to Tom.

> Tomorrow? Thurs?

> 7?

> You got wine?

> Done

> I have a surprise

> What?

> D'uh surprise

> :-)

* * * * *

Alison took a last sip of wine and placed the empty glass on the end table beside the couch.

"When am I going to see your surprise?" Tom asked.

"It's not exactly a surprise, just something I want to try."

"And?"

"You have to figure it out."

"Aren't you the mysterious one today. Does the wine have anything to do with it? You don't drink much."

"I like to keep my wits about me," She answered with a grin. "And, yes, the wine has something to do with it, a mood thing. Such as when I'm nervous about trying something new." She stood and walked past the bookshelves to the bed. She crossed her arms and pulled her t-shirt half-way off. "Do you want to help me?"

Tom moved behind her, rested his hands on her bare waist. Alison raised her arms over her head to allow him to pull off the t-shirt. With her arms still raised, he moved his hands down and cupped her breasts. He massaged them, slowly, paused to undo the hooks of the bra strap. He touched her naked skin, cupped her bare breasts, the nipples pressed into his palms. He felt her heart beating. 

He moved to kiss her but she pulled back, coyly. "Get ready," she urged with a smile, then reached down to step out of her panties. She stood in front of him while he undressed, then knelt to pull down his boxer briefs. She stood and pushed lightly against his chest. "Lay down and make yourself comfortable."

Tom smiled, puzzled. He lay back on the bed. Alison sat beside him, and began lightly touching his body with her fingers, cautious, as though for the first time. She bent forward over him and kissed his mouth, once, then again, then held the kiss, mouths open and tongues touching, then deeper. She tasted the sweet acidity of the wine.

Tome held her, moved to pull her body down over his. Alison smiled, placed a restraining hand on his bare chest and sat up, then inched herself slowly towards the foot of the bed. She continued to touch his body, his abdomen, his thighs. She stroked the underside of his scrotum. His semi-erect penis flexed in response. It almost seemed alive, with a will of its own. Alison chuckled at the thought. She stretched out beside him, supporting herself on one forearm and held his penis in one hand and began to lick the head. She circled the rim with her tongue then took the entire cool head into her warm mouth and held it there, then lowered her head and took in sucked it, circled the head with her tongue. His penis began to grow and stiffen in her mouth. She held it vertical between fingertips and thumb and licked around the shaft. She glanced up to Tom, and paused. She saw his face, concentrated, intense. She felt reassured. She licked up the shaft, took the head into her mouth played with the head with her tongue, then took him deeper into her mouth.

She wanted to continue, but couldn't, too impatient with her own anticipation. She straddled a leg and began humping his upturned foot, stimulating herself. Gripped his shaft in her fist, pumped languidly while she pushed her cunt, swollen in arousal, against him. She looked up to him, eyes locked, expectant.




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.




Naked: How to Dress the Truth Ch. 04



She quickly walked a block, then stopped, caught her breath. She didn't know where she was going. She had already planned a day on her own, just in case she needed to recover. Well, she chastised herself with an impatient shake of her head, now you need to recover. She continued to walk. She stopped, lost the brief struggle.

She took out her phone and called Greg. "Hi .. yes .. can I come over? .. Yes, right now, please? .. No, I'm OK, don't worry .. I just messed up big time .. can it wait? .. fine, the short story .. Tom said he was in love with me .. no, I just need to be with you .. about a half hour .. OK, bye."

* * * * *

Alison was tense with controlled anger when she arrived at Greg's apartment, walked past him at the door, saying "I need to clean up" and headed to the bathroom.

"Want anything?" he called after her.

"Tea .. straight." She shouted from behind the closed bathroom door.

Ten minutes later, cocooned in one of her size too large t-shirts, she sat at one end of the living room couch, holding a cup of hot tea to her lips.

Greg sat at the other end of the couch, and waited.

"I feel like an idiot," Alison muttered between cautious sips of hot tea.

"What happened? Was he difficult, make a scene?"

"No."

"So ..?"

Alison sighed. "I'm not as angry as I probably look. More about frustration with myself." She sipped her tea. "I'm all over the place emotionally," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I feel so stupid."

"Try not to be too hard on yourself. Sounds like everyone made some mistakes. Let's face it, the whole situation from the start was new territory for you."

She looked at him glumly. "I didn't see you making any mistakes."

"I wasn't sure about what was going on. For all I knew you might have been on the verge of getting serious with him."

"What? You're joking .. are you?" She wasn't sure if she ought to feel offended.

Greg smiled cautiously. "Just an hypothesis. But I'm not a mind reader."

Alison frowned, studied him for a few minutes. "What are you doing way over there anyway?"

"Avoiding collateral damage."

"God, I'm not that bad, am I?" she grimaced, and scooted closer to him. "I don't know," she continued. "I just feel dumb. If I'd only gone ahead and let myself go during the threesome then none of this would have happened."

"If you'd let yourself go, then you'd have already known what you know now."

"Oh, think so? What do I know now?"

"You tell me. I bet you've learned a few things."

"Such as about reality throwing surprises at me? How did you know? Why'd you let me do it?"

"First, I didn't know anything. And even if I did, it wasn't my place to give you permission for anything."

Alison thought a moment, then smiled to herself. "I did learn something about my panic reaction, what it was really about."

"Go on .."

"It's silly. Promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

"I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed by how turned on I was .. with someone else. I was afraid of how you would react to seeing that."

Greg thought a moment. "What happened to those feelings that didn't belong?"

"That's how they got in. Being so aroused with someone else there, I was afraid you'd think I was giving something special to someone else. Those feelings .."

"Funny, you were teasing me about it a couple of days ago."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess I finally made the connection." Alison inched closer to Greg, rested a hand on his thigh. "But what if I did .. fall for him?" 

Greg shrugged in reply. "Not my favourite outcome. Anyway, now we all know he loves you. What next?"

"I never intended a next anything. I made it clear that we're done."

"He wanted it to continue?"

"Yes. He made the offer. I said no." She paused. "It made me realize something else. It has to do with that conversation we haven't had yet."

Greg looked at her, puzzled. "What conversation is that?"

"You know. You mentioned it a couple of nights ago." Alison pulled up her knees, and crossed her arms over them.

Greg remembered, nodded. "What about it?

Alison rested her cheek on her folded arms and looked at Greg. "I think we should have it."

Greg held her gaze. "You mean, like a candlelight dinner in intimate restaurant kind of conversation?"

"Yeah. Something like that." She turned her head away, eyes moistening. "I'm such a dimwit. I don't know why you put up with me."

"You don't? I thought the reason was obvious."

"Really?" She looked back to Greg with a shy smile. "Why?"

"Because I'm a dimwit too."

"Greg! That's not the right answer!"

"Oh. Sorry. What should I have said?"

"That I'm irresistible."

Greg frowned, considered the possibility, and nodded his head slowly. "Yes .. yes .. I suppose there's some of that as well."

They held eye contact. Alison struggled to maintain her composure, and finally broke down, laughing. "You bastard," she said, a big grin on her face. She stood up and reached out a hand. "Come on. It's late. Drama queen is keeping you up past your bed time."

A short while later they were spooning in bed. She held his arms around her, kissed his hand. "Want to hear something else I learned?"

"What? There's more?"

"Lots. Such as about what the physical part means. On its own .. it was .. I liked it .."

Greg gave her a gentle squeeze. "Liked?"

"Give me a break, OK?" she smiled. "It's still not easy to admit it." A silent moment. "I liked it but when it was done I was glad to leave. I wanted to leave." She turned to face Greg. "With you it's different. It's as if the physical part isn't there for itself. It's a way to get somewhere else. It's how I feel afterwards, a place where I want to stay."

"I get it." Greg hugged her again. "I can take you there if you want."

"There's one problem with that suggestion," she replied. "You can't take me anywhere," she continued with a mischievous smile, "because I'm already there."

Alison sat up abruptly. She crossed her arms, held the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up over her head.

She rolled on top of him, naked body pressed against naked body. She kissed his mouth, nibbled his ear, and whispered "But I don't mind at all if you try anyway."