Our Song Ch. 04: Lisa

This is chapter 4 of the story "Our Song". While I encourage the readers to go and read chapters 1 through 3, here is a short recap for those of you who choose not to.

Owen, the narrator in this story, met Song, a young doctor with a healthy sexual appetite, and the two clicked right away, both sexually and emotionally. After two months together, Song told Owen she was bisexual, and that she was missing having sex with women. She suggested they tried finding a woman online, one who would wish to have sex with both of them.

They found Nathalie. She was very sexy and liked them very much. They spent a beautiful evening together, playing "truth or dare" and having sex, all three of them. Before saying goodbye, the three decided to meet again three days later.

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Nathalie stood us up, and did not show up for our date. Song and I tried to reach her on the phone and on WhatsApp, but she didn't answer our texts, and our calls went directly to voice mail. The following day I got a short message from her on WhatsApp:

"Hi Owen, I'm sorry, but I can't see you guys anymore. Hope you're not mad."

I showed Song this message, and she became furious.

"She practically told us she loved us, and suddenly she doesn't want to be with us anymore," Song said.

I tried to find legitimate excuses for Nathalie, but Song dismissed them all.

"It's hard to be in such a situation," I said. "We are a couple. We love each other. She's an outsider, and can't compete with us," I tried to explain.

"It's not a competition," Song replied. "We're all on the same team."

"Maybe it was for her. Maybe she fell in love with you, and didn't want to compete with me?" I tried. "I saw how she kissed you. That was not lust. That was deep emotion."

"You're just guessing. We don't know what her reasons were, but she did it in a very nasty way. Why didn't she call? Or at least text the two of us?"

"I guess she knew she'd hurt you, and didn't want to face you."

On the following weeks, Song was not herself. The evenings we spent together became routine and boring. The sex at the beginning of each evening became mechanical, with very little hugging and kissing, and very little eye contact. She needed me inside her, like an addict needing her drug. Our dinners too became boring and routine, followed by watching a series on Netflix in silence. Then we would undress and get to bed, but Song would turn off the light and turn away from me.

I tried to ask her on multiple occasions what bothered her — was she still not over Nathalie? Was it me? All she said was it was something she was going through, and she'd get over it. I just had to be patient.

One day, about three weeks after our one date with Nathalie, as Song and I were in bed together with the lights off, I heard Song crying. So far I have seen her in different emotional states — I've seen her happy, sad, aroused, angry. I've seen tears of joy in her eyes after we made love, or after Nathalie gave her that wonderful orgasm. I've seen tears of sadness or remorse when she was talking about Jessica and how she had hurt her. But never in our three months together have I heard her cry.

I rolled over to her direction and caressed her on her shoulder and arm.

"I love you," I told her. "You know that, right?"

"I know," she answered in tears.

"And you know you can tell me anything, right?"

She rolled over to face me. I couldn't see her face, but I felt her breath.

"You are the love of my life," she told me. "No one was ever as good to me as you are."

"And I will continue to be here for you for as long as you want me to."

She kissed me softly on the lips. As her face touched mine I felt her tears and tasted their salinity.

"You won't," she said. "Not always. Not after I'll break your heart."

My heart was pounding. I started to understand what she meant, but she went on.

"You have a big heart, and I know you love me with all of it. But there are things even you and your big heart and your big love can't fix."

"Like what?"

"Like me. For any other girl, you are a dream come true. Your'e smart, generous, caring, sexy..."

"I have been with other women, they always found flaws," I said.

"They were all morons. You're pure gold. And I love you so much. But I'm broken, because for stupid, stupid me, you're not enough."

"I'm not enough because I am not a woman?" I tried to make sure I understood.

"You're not enough because you're not a man and a woman at the same time," she corrected me. "I told you, I'm broken beyond repair."

Her voice was drowning in tears as she said this last sentence. I kissed her.

"I know I cannot be everything you need. But I am willing to support you as you search for happiness."

"I knew you'd say that," she said, and caressed my cheek, "but you know, love is not always as advertised. In the movies, people sometimes do this one heroic gesture of great sacrifice for the other person, and win their hearts forever. In real life, love is made of small sacrifices people made every day for one another."

"I don't follow," I said.

"You are willing to let me do what my heart tells me to right?"

"Sure."

"So, if my heart tells me to start going to gay clubs, and fuck another woman every night, how would you feel? Or if I will fall in love with a woman who will love me back, but not you, how would THAT make you feel? If I do this to you, I'll be breaking your heart one piece at a time. One night at a time."

I thought about what she described. Because she was working shifts, I was very much used to her not being in my bed every night. But even on these nights we weren't together, we were together in our minds. We chatted on WhatsApp, teasing each other, arousing each other. Even on those nights, we would make love in our minds. If she were to look for the missing piece with other women, that part of her life would be concealed from me. I would not have access to this part of her life. And I knew that would kill me slowly.

"And if I don't," she continued, "I'll be killing myself piece by piece. And I'm willing to sacrifice this for you, but I'm afraid it will make me a bitter person, and that will make me bad to you."

"You are right," I said, caressing her face, "but I believe in you. And I believe in our love. I believe that if we remain open and honest with each other, we can figure it out together."

"I love your optimism," she said, "I love you..."

We kissed passionately, and hugged for a while in silence, as each of us was ruminating, trying to figure our how to solve this problem. After a few minutes of silence she said:

"Owen, tonight I don't want to fuck you."

"That's OK, song", I said, understanding she wasn't in the mood, but she went on:

"Tonight I want to make love to you."

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After that night, Song's mood improved significantly. Our daily routine did not change much, but everything — the sex, the food and even watching Netflix, all became more meaningful, more emotional. We kissed a lot, hugged a lot, and touched each other all the time. The sex returned to being as good as it was when we first met, but with much deeper emotions. A few times I saw tears in Song's eyes as she climaxed. When I saw that I hugged her tight and kissed every inch of her face. Then I came down on her, giving her the closest thing I could to what she was missing.

A wonderful month has gone by. Then, one day when I came home from work, Song was waiting for me naked in the living room.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, as she never greeted me like that before.

"No occasion, just wanted you to see my body."

I kissed her, and she helped me out of my clothes. We fucked on the sofa. I came before her, but she didn't want me to continue. We laid there on the sofa naked for a while, and then she told me.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said.

"Anything," I replied.

"I need to disappear for a few days... probably two or three."

"Disappear?" I was surprised.

"I'll call in sick at work. It's problematic but they'll manage. I need to go somewhere. There's something I need to do."

"And you're not going to tell me what it is?"

"No."

"Or at least, where you're going."

"No, sorry."

"I'll worry sick."

"You don't have to worry. I'll be OK. And also, you can trust me. I'll come back to you. I love you. You are the love of my life."

"So why are you not telling me where your'e going?"

"This is something I need to figure out myself. Something related to my... problem. If it will work out the way I plan, you'll know everything. If it won't, there will be nothing to tell."

I kissed her softly. The idea of her disappearing like that for a few days saddened me. I was especially sad by the fact that she wouldn't confide in me, and wouldn't trust me with her plan. It reminded me of the scenarios she described, the ones in which she had a second life, one to which I didn't have access. I felt a piece of my heart cracking.

"Don't be sad," she said, looking straight into my eyes. "I'm doing this for us. I'm doing this because I will leave no stone unturned before I find a solution to our situation... my situation..."

"Can I at least text you, to see that you're alright?"

"I'll text you every day," she said, "but it won't be like when I'm at work. I'll need my head clear. But I will write to you so that you know I'm OK."

"Thank you," I said. "This will mean the world to me," and then I corrected myself. "You mean the world to me."

She kissed me warmly.

"When are you leaving?" I asked her after a minute or two of silence.

"I'm leaving tonight. My flight is at ten. I'm already packed. Would I be too cruel if I asked you to drive me to the airport?"

"I'll drive you to the end of the world," I said and kissed her passionately.

We stayed there, naked, on the sofa, cuddled in silence for half an hour or so, and then we put some clothes on and started making our way to the airport.

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Being without Song was hard. That is, I was already used to spending nights without her — she had between two and three night-shifts every week. But that felt different. Not knowing where she was or what she was doing drove me crazy. I started running scenarios in my head. Maybe she was going through some awful treatment for changing her sexual orientation? Maybe she was visiting a place full of gay clubs, where she could hook-up with many women, and have all the sex she ever desired, so she could get it off her system for a while, until the next time the urge comes up? Or maybe she met someone, and this was how she starts her new double life? And maybe she needed these few days to decide who she wanted to be with — her or me? Or maybe, it wasn't a her, but a he? No, not Song. She loved me. I knew she did, or I believed she did...

With these thoughts running through my head I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I even couldn't masturbate. Whenever I closed my eyes, some possible scenario of what Song could have been doing would pop up. I was distracted at work, I was a zombie at home.

She did text me every day, but these were short messages: "I arrived safely", or "I'm OK. I love you", or "I'm coming back tomorrow. Miss you!". I waited all day long for these messages, and when they arrived I hugged the phone, imagining I was hugging her.

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And three days later, she got back. She texted me before she took off from wherever she was visiting, and told me when she expected to land, and asked me if I was able to pick her up at the airport. I answered I would. It was a Sunday, so my calendar was wide open (my girlfriend was away), but even if it weren't, seeing her was my top priority. I would have changed my plans to pick her up.

She called me to let me know she landed. It was great to hear her voice. I got to my car and drove to the airport. As I got there, I saw her waiting for me on the curb. I pulled over and got out of the car to greet her and help her with her suitcase. After a short kiss she turned to the woman who was standing next to her and said:

"Lisa, meet Owen."

The woman was about our age. She was maybe an inch shorter than Song, had short, curly, brown hair, brown eyes, and was wearing a gray business suit — a skirt, a jacket and a white blouse underneath. She was wearing light make-up, which was very subtle. Her face was pleasant, and she was smiling kindly at me.

"Hi, nice to meet you. Song told me so much about you," Lisa said to me, and placed her right hand forward, to shake mine.

"Nice meeting you," I shook her hand. "Song told me absolutely nothing about you..."

She smiled, but did not respond. Song placed both their suitcases in the trunk of my car and gestured Lisa to sit in the front passenger seat, next to me. Song herself sat at the back, and we drove into town.

"Lisa is an old friend from collage," Song told me as we left the airport.

"So you're a doctor too?" I asked Lisa.

"No," said Song. "Lisa was pre-med."

This was a hint for me, telling me, although she never mentioned her by name, she had already told me about Lisa quite a bit. Finally I knew what Song was trying to achieve on this secret expedition of hers. She was trying to reach out to the first person she has ever been intimate with, the woman to whom, according to what she's told me, she felt the strongest connection, except for maybe myself. Seeing Lisa in the car with us, I figured whatever Song did there (wherever 'there' might be), worked out.

"So, you're a lawyer?" I asked, trying to make conversation. The other things I did knew about her were not your everyday conversation starters.

"No, I have a law degree but I'm not a member of the bar," she said. "I work in 'regulatory affairs' for a large corporate in Boston."

"So, you were in Boston?" I asked Song through the rear-view mirror.

"Yes," Song replied. "I went to seek Lisa there. And gladly, she was happy to see me."

"And you brought her back with you," I asserted, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I wanted to meet you," Lisa said, smiling at me.

There was an awkward silence, and then Song told me:

"Lisa didn't want to impose on us, so she booked a hotel. She'll be staying in Pittsburgh for two nights. Her flight back is leaving the day after tomorrow."

I wasn't sure what was going on. Who would jump on a plane on such short notice to meet an old friend's boyfriend? And stay there two nights? I had a lot of questions, but didn't want to ask them in front of Lisa, not knowing how coordinated the girls were with each other. So we drove in silence until we reached town.

"In which hotel are you staying?" I asked.

She named the hotel, but Song suggested that she came to our place first.

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We got to the apartment. As we got in, Lisa asked if it would be OK if she took a shower.

"I came to the airport directly from work," she said. "I feel all sweaty."

Song gave her a clean towel, and showed her to the main bathroom. When we heard the water starting to run, Song finally felt free to hug me and kiss me.

"I missed you so much," she told me.

"I missed you too."

We kissed passionately, and then she led me to the bedroom, and started unbuttoning my pants.

"Lisa can get out of the shower any minute," I warned Song, but she already had her hand inside my underpants, caressing my dick."

"I missed him so much," she said.

I had so many questions to ask, and honestly, did not think about sex. But her touch felt so good, and I got aroused. She removed my pants completely and gestured towards the bed. I laid on it, and she started sucking my dick."

"Oh," she said between one suck and another, "I forgot how good you taste!"

"I have so many questions for you," I tried to say.

"I'll answer every one of them," she said with a smile, as she pulled my dick out of her mouth and started massaging it, "but first, a girl has got to eat."

She put my dick back in her mouth and continued sucking. Then I heard the bathroom door closing.

"Cover me!" I begged. "She's out of the shower."

Song got my penis out of her mouth, smiled at me and whispered:

"Just because she fucked me, doesn't mean she won't be happy to see your dick."

I didn't know how to respond, and then Lisa came into the room.

"I see you started the party without me," she said.

Lisa was wearing nothing but the towel Song gave her.

"You're welcome to join us," Song said, and moved to my other side, allowing Lisa to sit on the edge of the bed, next to me.

Lisa sat next to me, looked at my penis and said:

"Nice dick! It looks better than in the picture."

"Picture?" I thought. "Song showed her a picture of my penis?" I have sent Song a few of them when we were chatting on WhatsApp during her shifts, but these were for her own consumption. I wanted to say something, but didn't know what. Then Lisa looked at Song and asked:

"May I?"

Song nodded with a smile, and Lisa leaned toward my penis and started sucking it. She did it really well. Her technique was different than Song's. Song would use a lot of tongue, but would not get it too deep in her mouth. Lisa took almost my entire dick in her mouth with every suck. That felt great.

Song got rid of her shirt and pants, and laid on the bed, next to me, with only her bra and panties. Then she pushed her hand up my shirt, and started caressing my chest, her fingers playing with my chest hairs.

"So you know Lisa was my first," she told me, as Lisa was sucking my dick.

"Yes, I figured that out," I said.

"I found her on Facebook two weeks ago. We hit it off really well, but didn't talk about getting intimate again or anything. I knew, from her Facebook profile, she lived in the Boston area, so I faked an excuse to fly there, and told her I had a conference there. She agreed to meet me, and we went for a nice walk around downtown together."

I started breathing heavily as I felt I was getting close to cum. Lisa probably felt it and looked up at me with smiling eyes. Song went on with the story:

"We ended that walk near my hotel, and kissed. Then I worked up the courage to ask her up to my room."

She paused, examining my reaction. I was about to cum in Lisa's mouth, so I just smiled at her. She went on.

"Luckily for me she agreed, and we went there, and reacquainted ourselves with each other's body."

This last sentence, although put so gently and subtly, in a way that was not typical for Song, did it for me. I started shooting my cum in Lisa's mouth. I looked at her. She continued sucking my penis, but did it more slowly than before. After I was done, she got my dick out of her mouth and started licking it, making sure she got every last drop of my cum.

"Did you like it?" she asked me.

"That was amazing!" I told her, breathing heavily. "Did you?"

"I did very much," she smiled at me, and then at Song. "You told me he was cute, but not that he was so delicious!"

"I wanted you to find out for yourself," Song noted, smiling warmly at Lisa.

Song sat up and got closer to Lisa. She leaned over and kissed her softly.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said to Lisa. "I'm glad you find my boyfriend delicious."

They kissed some more, and started to touch each other's body. Song removed her bra, and Lisa caressed her small, beautiful breasts. Song touched Lisa's breasts through the towel.

"Do you still need the towel?" Song asked Lisa. "I know Owen would love to see your breasts."

Lisa smiled at Song and then at me, and let go of the top of the towel, allowing it to fall down to her hips. Her breasts were bigger than Song's but still small relative to most of the girls I've seen naked.

"Do you like them?" Lisa asked me.

"Very much," I said quietly.

Song caressed Lisa's breasts softly and looked at me.