Chapter 10, In which Stacey is a hater

I suddenly awakened, gazing silently at the ceiling of the darkened bedroom. The soft sound of Stacey’s breathing came from atop the bed, but that wasn’t what had roused me. I listened carefully, feeling aches in every inch of my body.

Some of it was sleeping on the floor; the comforter puddled beneath me didn’t do much to disguise the unyielding hardwood beneath it. I suspected I’d have felt the same way if I’d been in my usual location on the sofa; most of the damage had come from straining muscles I didn’t even know I had as Stacey had teased me through an unending series of titanic orgasms.

My face heated at the memory, which was impressive considering I was a self-professed slut. Perhaps it was because none of the climaxes had been of the usual physically-induced variety; perhaps it was because my parents had witnessed most of them. Perhaps it was something deeper.

The soft hum repeated, disrupting my thoughts, and I recognized the sound of my phone in vibrate mode. I rolled silently to my feet, stifling a sigh as I flexed my protesting core muscles, and crept out of the bedroom without disturbing the rhythm of Stacey’s sleep. Where had she left the phone?

I found it sitting on the counter with my keys. The display glowed brightly, displaying only three uppercase letters — “JTX”. As I looked at it, the phone vibrated again, triggering a rush of moist heat inside me. I bit my lip and couldn’t resist the temptation to stroke my suddenly-throbbing clit.

“JTX” was Jenny in Texas, the stripper with whom I’d been having a torrid, if long-distance, affair. Like me, she was a slut who delighted in giving and receiving sexual pleasure, and if there were any two more compatible people in the world, I’d have to see them to believe it. The problem was that I was desperately in love with Stacey, and she was the jealous type.

Stacey had found out I’d been cheating on her the previous night, and it had been as bad as I’d feared. Jenny was safely out of harm’s way in Texas, but I’d been right there to soak up all of Stacey’s hurt and wrathful retaliation. I’d been mind-fucked to the point where I didn’t even really care anymore, mostly. Just doing what Stacey wanted was enough to get me off.

The phone buzzed again and I gasped, my finger twisting the rings that trapped my clit between them. Touching myself that way definitely was not on the list of things Stacey wanted, but just now, the top of the list was “don’t ever have anything to do with Jenny again.”

Since I’d been talking and texting with Jenny every day for months and loved her just as much as I loved Stacey, I really wanted to answer the phone. Knowing that I was denying myself the pleasure of doing so, just because Stacey wanted it, had me wound up tighter than if the phone had been a vibrator buried in my sensitive ass.

The phone went quiet and reported, “Missed calls: 4”. I’d been a good girl, and not answered. The thought left my knuckles white on the counter and my knees gave out. Liquid heat coated the fingers of my other hand and I moaned raggedly, unable to stave off my orgasm. I listened, but the rest of our apartment remained quiet.

A short buzz jerked me back to my feet. “JTX: r u there?” I moaned again, creaming like cheap bacon on a hot griddle as I swayed on my feet, caught between competing imperatives.

I knew I couldn’t go on this way. I loved Jenny — closer than a sister, more than a lover, like we’d become two halves of the same person. I didn’t want to see her suffer at Stacey’s hands.