Crumpled socks

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story of how a woman betrays herself and a man doesn't look closely enough to realize his selfishness.

Submitted: June 02, 2016

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Submitted: June 02, 2016

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With him, she had always felt. . . free. Yessine laid at the edge of the bed with her but toward almost off the foot of it like when you get your papsmear and the doctor instructs you to let you bare naked ass cheeks almost hang of the table so they can stick that humiliating tool inside of you. “Babe?” she said to her boyfriend Nolan, “what are you doing down there?” He looks up and stares between her legs. She has on those panties he likes. The ones that are pink with the off-white lace. “Folding laundry” he replies, grinning, without making his observation known. “You know, that stuff you let lay around for weeks until it slowly disappears because you just pick out what you will wear from it each day?” She smiled as she stared up at the ceiling. She did hate folding laundry. If she could avoid it she would, and with Nolan, she could. “He doesn’t mind” she said silently to herself.

“What are you doing up there?” Nolan asked as he snuck a peak between her legs between items of clothing folded. “Just thinking” the question made the smile disappear and she became somber. “Last night, I wasn’t really feeling it. Not because of you of course, I just wasn’t in the mood for no particular reason.” Nolan stared down at the little white footies of hers that he was trying to figure out how to fold, if that was even possible. He knew what she was talking about. She dried up before he was finished and so he had to pump a little faster at the end so he could finish before . . . “Yeah, I think I noticed that you weren’t so into it toward the end so I tried to finish up quickly.” He replied. Something about that response felt off. He looked up to take another peak, her knees were touching now and she was silent. He raised himself up onto his knees to so he could see her face. She looked contemplative. He self-evaluated for a second and then something nudged him; he didn’t like it so he shrugged it off.

He dropped the white footies and stood up looking down at her. She looked at him and smiled as if she had realized something that satisfied her. He slipped his right hand between her knees, “whatya doin?” she asked in that playful tone she gets when they move into sex from a playful game. “You know what I am doing” he said as he gently pried her knees apart, placed his hips there and knelt down with his knees on the floor. His hips were just above the height of the bed, right where her vagina was and he could feel its warmth against him. He loved that about her body; she was warm. She was his home and he could never get enough of closeness with her. Her touch, her smell, her taste, it was all so powerful and beautiful.

He leaned in to kiss her neck

She giggles a little

He squeezes her breasts

She pushes his hands down gently

He brings them back

She says, “babe, just, hold on”

Get out of your head babe, just loose yourself in me like I loose myself in you

She returns his kisses, but she feels the flatness creep in that she felt last night. She remembers the sense of betrayal she felt when she didn’t speak up and just tell him how she felt. She didn’t want to betray herself again so she tried to tell him without telling him to harshly. Men's egos are fragile.

So many thoughts and time elapses, her panties are off

How is this different? Normally this is different. . . or is it?

Ok but wait babe

She pushes at him and he resists

She can feel him want her

Wait

Thrust

He is in

A confused “uh ah ah” comes out of her mouth

A tear runs down her right temple and into her ear, then her left

He is thrusting and moaning; it feels so good to him.

She is wet, how?

Her body stiffens, her hands begin to tremble

Her ears are filled with salt water

He comes, “uuaaaaahhhhhhh”

He breathes deeply into her neck still as he pulls out. He lifts his body and focuses on her face.

He sees her body trembling and her hands positioned as if she were avoiding being shot by police or something. “Wha. . what’s, what’s wrong babe?”

She gets up and says, “Im going to take a shower, ok?” and smiles behind the tears. “Wait, why are you crying?” He goes to grab her shoulder and she continues forward as if she didn’t notice his hand slip away. She walks into the bathroom to the right of the bed in a zombie-like fashion. She moves the shower curtain back and the rings make that high pitched shrieking noise against the metal bar. He watches her as she turns on the steaming hot water, steps into the shower, and slides the curtains closed again behind her.

Nolan sits on the edge of the bed and runs back the last 10 minutes in his head. Every word and gesture and then it hits him. Her body was tense, the “babe just hold on” and the “wait” that he had ignored. And last night, he finished instead of stopping to see why she had dried up. “Did I just. . .” He looks toward the shower curtains as soft sobs escape from the sound of the running sower. Then he looks down at the white footies that he had dropped on the floor in the pile of laundry before he decided that he would make her feel good after a bad episode the night before. They lay there, crumpled and confused. He never did know how to put them together right…

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