Avery and Jenna Pt. 12: Avowal

"I actually turned down a few guys after we had sex, so I could keep myself available," Janelle confessed.

"We should probably go inside. It's cold. We're both naked, and we're not very high up. Someone could easily catch us," he reasoned, turning his head toward hers. Janelle stepped against him, pressing her blood-saturated nipples into his back.

"I don't care about being caught," she sexily stated, once more traveling Avery's length with her delicate hand.

"I had no idea you were like this," he responded. Janelle kissed Avery's shoulder again, and then buffed it with her cheek.

"I'm very uninhibited. I'm not afraid to admit the things that I like. You should know that about me by now," she replied. Janelle willingly traced his long, thick dick with added vigor, and as he stiffened from her attention, she became increasingly excited.

"Do you only like me because you think I have a big cock?" He asked. The warmth generated by the union of their bodies kept the tundra-like temperature around them at bay.

"I don't have to think anything. You may have the biggest dick I've ever had. And no, that's not the only reason I like you," she answered, moving her tongue across his back to his opposite shoulder.

"You're sexy. I won't deny that, but you're also sincerely kind to me. Most men I meet are only kind because they think I'm easy." While she spoke, her lips continued to plant kisses onto his back and shoulders.

"But you're not, are you?" He asked, noticing as she sowed her soft kisses, small drops of pre-cum sprouted from the head of his cock.

"I'll admit that I'm very sexual. I don't care what people think about me. I already know I'm a slut," she answered, spitting onto her hand a second time to lubricate his dick. "And before you psychoanalyze me, I was never abused or touched as a child, and I have a great relationship with both of my parents, although they, themselves, have a terrible one." Her hand increased its speed. Janelle was no longer interested in teasing Avery; she had a mind to lead him to climax.

"I wasn't going to say anything. Honestly, I relate to how you feel," he confessed. His teeth bit down onto his bottom lip, partially from her stroking and inadvertently from the temperature surrounding him.

"I've been hooked on sex ever since my first time. Mine wasn't the typical one most women have. It was perfect. No pain at all," she explained. As she spoke, she held her other hand underneath the head of his cock.

"To answer your question: no, I'm not easy. Not at all. I'm aware of how attractive I am, and my standards for others are pretty high. I won't just fuck anybody, but when I do choose to have sex with someone, I'm very open-minded. I won't usually say 'no' to anything."

"Me either. I'll try anything at least once," he moaned out loud as her hand maintained its grip and rhythm.

"I have a confession to make," she said quietly. She felt unashamed of what she was about to say to him. "I get off on pain and being used," she whispered as she entranced Avery with her hand and lips.

"Really?" He asked, reaching behind himself to place his hands onto her ass. Acknowledging his submission to her, Janelle smiled.

"Oh, yes. Being used is one of my biggest turn-ons. That and pain. When you fucked my ass earlier, it really hurt, but that's why I liked it. It was like a dream to me. Both of my biggest turn-ons in one," she admitted.

"I'm surprised you even wanted anal," he said. He lowered his head and watched his cock drip two small beads of pre-cum onto Janelle's waiting hand. "I feel like most women would think I'm overwhelming."

"You're not wrong. A lot of women would find you overwhelming, but I'm not 'most women'. I can handle it. Like I said, I enjoy pain. It just gets me off harder," she said, standing onto her toes to murmur into his ear.

"I liked it when you bent me over the couch and shoved your cock up my ass. I liked how deep you pushed inside it. I liked how hard you fucked it. I came twice. I really liked sucking you off after you fucked my ass," Janelle's whispered. Her hand and words were directing Avery toward an inevitable end.

"You don't think that was too dirty?" He asked, closing his eyes as he felt his testicles push upward, preparing his cum to be expelled.

"I don't care. I don't mind being dirty or nasty at all. Besides, you really seemed to enjoy it," Janelle teased as she felt Avery's spunk drip onto her hand.

"Ooh! There we go! Let me have it!" At her request, Avery's drops turned into full streams. The first missed her hand entirely. It flew beyond her outstretched fingers and through the metal bars of the balcony, soaring down the two stories to an unknown landing spot. Janelle shifted and cupped her hand to contain the rest of it. As she milked his member, her hand filled with hot, viscous spunk. Janelle smiled widely as she captured his essence. Secretly, she hoped that someone would be walking on the sidewalk and happen to notice her being slutty on his balcony. When Avery finished emptying himself into Janelle's hand, she withdrew it from him.

"It's so cold out here, it's steaming in my hand!" She exclaimed, seeing a white mist rise from her hand. Avery turned around to marvel at the glorious muddle Janelle helped him to create. Seconds later, Janelle lifted her hand above her chin and dropped her head back. With her mouth opened wide, she turned her cupped hand forward, spilling the hot seed into it. Some attempted escape by landing onto her chin, but most of it found its mark. She eased the runaway drop against her bottom lip, licking it away sexily. Janelle's innards thawed as the cum's heat, texture, and flavor stimulated her. After gulping it down, she licked the remnants away from her hand.

"Was it good?" Avery asked wearily. The combination of his release and the alcohol in his system were causing his eyes to droop with drowsiness.

"Delicious," Janelle declared. Her arms folded around Avery's neck. Her lips met his in a deep, sensual kiss. Avery placed his hands onto her small, exposed waist. When she broke the kiss, she felt the head of his cock poke her in the stomach. A small drop of cum remaining on it nestled itself into her navel.

"Are you sleepy?" She asked, noticing him yawn after their embrace.

"A little, admittedly."

"I am, too," she said, resting her head against his chest. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

"I was going to ask you to. I'm not done fucking you. I just need a little rest before I continue," he assured her. Janelle's head rose to look him in his eyes.

"Once we wake up, you can have me all you want," she said, rubbing his stubbly cheek with the hand she used to get him off.

"Are you sure you'll be here when I wake up?"

"You know I will," she retorted, a large smile spread across the bottom of her face. Taking his hand in hers, as she turned around to escape the wintry air, she stopped and focused her azure eyes onto his face.

"By the way, Happy Valentine's Day, Avery."

HAPPY VALETINE'S DAY, I

The night was gone, and so was Janelle, though parts of her still lingered. Her absence made Avery feel lonelier than he wished. His eyelids were heavy; they struggled mightily against his will to stay closed. Upon waking, Avery noticed was where he was: in the center of the living room, on the floor. He was positioned on his stomach. A bottle of Baton Bleu's Platinum Reserve Red Blend rested less than two feet away from him. It was opened and its dark red contents had saturated the carpet. By now, from the cold air, the stain would be dry and nearly impossible to remove. As he endeavored to move onto his elbows, he next realized that he was not wearing any clothes. The shaft of his cock ached from a night of extensive use. Jadedly, he made it to his knees. Placing his hands on his thighs to steady himself, he sighed loudly. He was experiencing, what he referred to, as sex pains. Specific muscles burned from maintaining certain positions, like his thighs, lower back, and abdomen. Even his chest joined in the chorus of discomfort. How long had they been fucking? He did not know, but estimating solely from the severity of his agony, it must have been consistent hours. Eventually, his feet did a passable job of hoisting him into the air. Mission accomplished: he was standing.

The clock on the cable box read 3:10 PM. There was no reference in his mind of a time that he and Janelle fell asleep. Only a blurry, vague memory, composed of the smell of her hair and perfume, the latter of which still dawdled throughout the apartment. Its highest concentration, clearly, was in the bedroom. Numerous bed covers were stranded on the floor, leaving behind a naked, off-white mattress. The only things which still sat atop the bed were two pillows. The source of Janelle's perfume emanated from one of them, accompanied by a hint of her hair. One could assume, she was sleeping in the bed at some point during the night. He leaned down and lifted the various linens from the floor, one at a time. As he collected his navy-blue comforter, Janelle's blue thong from last night fell from the bundle. He recognized them seconds later. Where was she, and why had she left behind her underwear? Silly thoughts for a mind still submerged by a lake of booze, half active, and unable to rationalize the enormity of the happenings of the previous night. When Avery completed the task of clearing the floor of the bed's contents, he sprawled carelessly from the bedroom into the kitchen. One thing was clear: he needed water. His mouth was dry and contained remnants of wine and sex.

Six minutes and three full glasses later, his vision stilled. The throb in his head subsided, and recalls of the evening, shattered like a broken window, flashed in his mind. Though he did not know where Janelle had gone, he did remember that they made it to the bed together. They were, at some ungodly part of the night, ensnared in each other's arms. He remembered the tightness of her ass from the anal. Not just the first time, but the succeeding times as well. Twice more, if his thoughts were to be believed. Exiting the kitchen and walking to the living room, he picked up the finished bottle of wine. He stared out onto the balcony. It was like the aftermath of a frat party. Empty beer cans, a bottle opener, and a drained bottle of vodka were all gathered into one side of the balcony. There was no memory of either of them performing that. Not that it mattered. Everything was empty. It was a sure bet that, at least parts of the contents of those containers, were within him. Abandoning his fractured thoughts of the evening, he gave his attention to the stain on the living room floor. It was at least a foot long in diameter. It felt dry to the touch. Even a carpet cleaner may not cleanse it.

Satisfied with what he saw and remembered, his next mission began: locating his cell phone. It was not plugged into the USB cord he normally used. As far as he could tell, it was not in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or in the living room. His search for the phone ended quickly. After downing another full glass of water, he chose a granny smith apple from the kitchen and seated himself at his computer desk. Chewing a large bite of the fruit, he opened his laptop. Installed on it was software that could make the cell phone ring. Better to employ it than searching all day. The cursor hovered over the icon for the program, and next to that icon was one for Chrome. Against his better judgment, he moved the cursor to the right and double-clicked the browser. He knew that his actions would be painful, but he logged into Facebook anyway. As expected, his relationship status had been altered. It showed that he was in a relationship, but Jenna's name was nowhere to be found. A more detailed look showed that not only had she canceled their relationship status, but she had also blocked him from viewing her profile. It was as he thought it would be: only heartache.

It was wise that he used the software on his computer to locate his device. It had, inexplicably, found its way into the refrigerator. It was a peculiar place for it, but now that he possessed it, his next mission was to contact Janelle. Maybe she was privy to how its setting came to be. Pressing the button to activate the screen, an interesting picture illuminated the background. Gone was the picture of he and Jenna from last Christmas, and in its stead, was a picture of he and Janelle. Her cheeks and chin were festooned with cum, presumably his, and her brown hair was frighteningly messy. His face was awkwardly presented; his eyes were barely open. Unlocking the phone, he searched through the photos, but all traces of Jenna had been erased. Not a single picture of her survived. Her contact information was also missing. As with the wallpaper, Jenna's pictures were replaced with ones of Janelle in various levels of undress. Admittedly, the pictures were incredible, but Avery neither remembered taking them, nor deleting any of the photos containing Jenna. His next mission was a questionable one: search for her photos on the cloud storage.

*RING, RING*

Conveniently, the call was from Janelle. Strange, as he was certain Janelle's number was not in his phone, yet here it was stowed, complete with her home address, email, and a sexy contact photo, as though it were always there. He waited a few seconds to admire the picture. It was one he had not yet seen. Finally, he answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey handsome! How are you?" Janelle's voice contained both provocation and fatigue.

"I'm okay. A little confused about a few things," he answered. Realizing he was still signed into Facebook, he exited the platform. There was nothing there for him to see.

"Confused about what?" She questioned.

"Well, for one: where did you go?"

"We went to bed at around two or three in the morning, but you didn't stay asleep. You woke me up and wanted to fuck some more, but I was too tired. You were being really aggressive, so I snuck out and drove home," she explained.

"Do you know why I was sleeping on the living room floor?"

"No," she said, followed by laughing. "Did you really wake up on the floor?"

"Yeah, I did. I don't know how I got there."

"Neither do I. When I left, you were wide awake."

"Interesting. What about all these pictures of you on my phone?" He questioned. Remembering about his cloud idea, he reopened the phone program on his computer. He entered the username and password on the account. Within him was more hope than there should have been, that Jenna's missing pictures were there.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. Her tone was cheerful. Perhaps not an outright stated enthusiasm, but an obvious one, came through the phone. "I don't remember exactly when, but you asked me to model for you, so I did. When we went through the pictures, you saw all the ones of Jenna and got really upset, so I offered to delete them for you and you said yes." Absent was an undertone of remorse for her actions. On the contrary, she sounded proud of them.

"I don't remember that," he answered. As the sentence ended, his cloud images finally loaded. Sure enough, every photo of Jenna was saved, safely and privately, in his account. Not that it mattered. She was still gone.

"I also noticed you didn't have my number, so I took the liberty of adding it for you. Actually, what I did was replaced Jenna's information with mine."

"Why did you do that? I'm not mad, but I'm curious why," he asked, highlighting every photo of Jenna on the screen. Once they were selected, he copied them, and saved them from the cloud to a newly-created folder on his desktop.

"I felt like you didn't need the reminder. Her relationship status on Facebook changed to 'single' sometime this morning," she explained. "She unfriended you, too. I'm assuming she removed me as well, since now I can't see her profile anymore."

"Maybe so," he answered. A progress bar crawled as the completed its work.

"But, whatever. I don't want to think about it."

"Me either."

"So, I somehow made it all the way home and fell asleep without realizing I wasn't wearing my thong. When you find it, could you just stash it somewhere safe for me, and I'll get it when I come by again? I would appreciate that. That thong is one of my favorites," she requested.

"Come by again?" He parroted. Avery was occupied with the slow-moving status bar on the screen. Janelle's words did not register in his mind.

"Yeah. You do want to see me again, don't you?"

"Oh yeah! I'm sorry. Don't mind me. I'm still tired."

"I am, too. I would have stayed, especially since it's Valentine's Day, but you were incorrigible. I was sore to the point where even I needed to stop, and I desperately wanted sleep. I'm still exhausted, so I'm going to go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Before you go, may I ask one more question?"

"Sure, handsome."

"Why was my phone in the fridge?" At his words, she laughed again. For a girl who claimed a need for rest, she was full of laughter this afternoon.

"I hid it from you to distract you, so I could get dressed and leave."

"Oh. I apologize."

"No need. I had a lot of fun, but let's talk later, okay Avery?"

"All right. Thanks Janelle."

"You're welcome. Bye handsome!"

"Bye."

The conversation ended. The night's events played out even odder than he surmised. Avery wondered what exactly Janelle believed was happening between them. The status bar on his computer vanished, notifying him that the downloads were complete. Wisely, he chose to close the lid. His device was alerting him of low battery, so he plugged it into a micro USB cord, climbed onto the unmade bed, closed his eyes and tried to remember more events of the night, after the dinner. Whatever happened, it must have been incredible. Avery felt weary, but still the same, as though nothing were missing from his life. Janelle's sweet aroma beckoned him to dream.

Throughout the afternoon, the television was sullied with talk of that maddening nonsense called love. Shades of red and pink decorated the screen, infecting all whom consumed the programming. Avery did his best to withstand it. Fortunately, there were reruns of the Walking Dead on AMC. The channel was promoting its season finale heavily, as every other commercial mentioned how few episodes remained before the season concluded. When there was talk of trivial things like love and romance, Avery turned away from the screen, focusing instead on the images contained within his phone's storage. There must have been at least eighty pictures. She wore no clothes in any of them, save for the royal blue bra and thong. Many of the pictures featured her without any clothes. Several of them were of her and Avery, specifically his manhood, in various spots throughout her body. Nothing stretching into any territory one might consider unusual. Her mouth, vagina, and ass were all penetrated last night. Avery clearly enjoyed himself. He construed as much from the evidence. Three of the earliest images of her were of a facial he gave her. From the angle of the shot, she held the phone above her head. Her pink lips were puckered, and the peace sign was displayed by her right hand. She exhibited herself pompously, as even in the same picture, a wide stripe of his seed threatened to invade her eye.

When the show played again, he placed his phone onto the small table behind him. It was covered with empty pints of ice cream and beer bottles. Many of the bottles were from the previous night, but the consumed ice cream packages were all from today. Ben & Jerry's Cheesecake Core. They belonged to Jenna. Occasionally, he would sneak a spoonful of an open pint as a midnight snack. On some occasions, one spoonful was followed by a second. Then a third. Until the entire carton was done, and he would have a difficult choice to make: trek the thirty-minute drive to the only nearby grocer that sold the flavor, or somehow convince Jenna that she had eaten the whole thing. Sans Jenna, he no longer worried about being yelled at for eating her favorite guilty pleasure. Her departure left him in the company of four unopened pints of the stuff, and he wasted no time devouring each of them. Jenna had exemplary taste in everything: clothes, music, and especially, ice cream. Another commercial about Valentine's Day played on television. This time, it was a jewelry advertisement from Zales. "Buy your significant other a fancy, overpriced diamond ring or bracelet or necklace from our 'expert' jewelers." What a ridiculous advert. What a crock of shit.