My Girlfriend's Fall (7) Betrayal

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

The singer on stage was performing rock songs with all his might, and the audience below swayed to the rhythm. This was a

bar typical of many places in America. Inside, people were happily raising their glasses, listening to music. Some were groups of friends relaxing and enjoying the music, some were couples whispering sweet

nothings , and some were families,

celebrating something I couldn't quite place… In an inconspicuous corner seat, someone sat blankly, seemingly lost in thought

, or perhaps simply "daydreaming"? That wasn't the point. The point was that in front of him were two empty

bottles , the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts, and several more were scattered on the table…

That person was me.

That night, after watching the video… I sat at my desk for three hours, then left a note

saying I was doing an experiment all night and might not be back. Afterwards, I drove to a club in the city. A teetotaler,

I smoked three packs of cigarettes and drank two bottles of whiskey that night, drinking until the club

closed and kicked everyone out in the middle of the night before finally staggering back to my car.

In the car, I was half-crying, half-sleeping, half-shouting—basically like a madman—until dawn, when I finally fell into

a deep sleep. The next day at noon, I was half-awake by the sounds of cars on the street, and half-

awake by the stench on myself. Of course, with alcohol, cigarettes, and the fact that I'd vomited all over myself

and in the car, how could I not smell? Later, when I went to get my car washed, that black guy gave me a dirty look.

I don't know how I got through this week. Yes, it's been a week since that night. I

've hardly slept at home this week, always using experiments as an excuse. Either it's the middle of the night, and I sneak into

bed after Viola falls asleep, or I don't go home at all. Most of the time, I've been going to bars or clubs. People

say you can drown your sorrows in alcohol, but it doesn't work for me at all.

Even so, I don't have anywhere else to go, do I? I chuckled self-deprecatingly, picked up the bottle on the table, and mechanically

started to pour it into my mouth. "Can I sit here?" A sweet voice interrupted my smooth

routine, but it didn't matter. I just paused briefly and continued my unfinished action. I downed my drink in one gulp

. The person who had spoken earlier was quite nonchalant; not getting a response from me, he simply sat

down.

He picked up the bottle and poured the wine into his glass with clean, crisp movements. Of course, he must

have repeated this action hundreds of times over the past seven days. I guess I might have even mastered the bartender's "pouring wine in mid-air" skill by now

, I chuckled to myself. At the same time, I glanced at the person who had "automatically

sat down ."

Golden curly hair, I couldn't tell if it was permed or natural. He wore light makeup, and his features were very defined and

perfectly proportioned. (You know, while Caucasians generally have more defined features,

each part still needs to be well-proportioned.) (That's what makes someone look good; not everyone with a pretty nose and big eyes is handsome or beautiful.)

She wore a yellow-green strapless, tight-fitting, low-cut top, which went all the way up to reveal a glimpse of her lace bra .

The lace on her bra was a matching shade of light green. Her lower body was hidden by the table.

"

Hello, my name is Joan." Noticing that I only glanced at her before turning back to pouring drinks, she introduced herself

.

"Hello, Jay." Even though I was in a bad mood, I still had to be polite. I politely stopped pouring drinks

and looked up as I answered, only to find her hand outstretched.

"It's nice to meet you." "Me too." Holding her hand, I noticed that her hand was quite soft, quite

different from the rough skin of the average American.

“You’re not very talkative.” Seeing me lower my head to pour more wine, Joan had no choice but to speak again, her large

eyes sparkling with curiosity, her long eyelashes fluttering.

This was the first time Joan had encountered a man like this. Usually, she was surrounded by suitors, with many

men showering her with attention, but no one had ever been so indifferent to her. Today, she was out

drinking with some girlfriends because one of them was getting married. In America, there’s a custom of having a “singles’ party

” before the wedding. While they were laughing and joking upstairs, Joan got a little tired and came downstairs to listen to music and rest.

As soon as she came down, someone offered her a drink. Annoyed by these kinds of invitations, she immediately went to a corner,

sat down , and… She noticed an Asian-looking boy drinking heavily to her right. This was

commonplace in bars; there were always one or two like that every day. But for some reason, this boy caught

her eye. Was it his melancholic air? Or the look of utter despair in his eyes? Anyway, as Joan watched

, she suddenly felt a pang of pity and walked over.

Now, Joan's interest was piqued even more. She was very confident in her looks;

no man had ever ignored her like this before. Actually, it was all by chance. First, being with Viola had made

me much more immune to "beautiful women." Second, in this mood, I genuinely didn't have time to appreciate

her beauty.

"Hmm," she murmured, as if answering her question, but more of an unconscious whisper.

“I can tell you’re in a bad mood. You came here to vent. Anyway, we’re strangers, and we probably won’t see each other again after

tonight . If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to be your listener,”

Joan said softly.

I glanced at her again, intending to say something to send her away, but the words caught in my throat.

My eyes met hers, and I was surprised to find they resembled Viola’s—no, the closer I looked, the more similar they seemed

…

I shook my head, trying to force the image of Viola out of my mind.

“My name is Jay,” I said. Only after saying it did I realize I had already introduced myself. I exchanged a surprised look with

Joan we both burst out laughing.

“I have a girlfriend named Viola…” I don’t know why… At this moment, I suddenly feel like I need to tell someone what I want to say.

My feelings, my story, even if she's a stranger—no, a stranger is better. Chinese social circles are small,

and gossip spreads incredibly fast…

I started by seeing Viola for the first time on the plane, and continued talking until the bar closed. Joan listened with rapt attention

, so we went to a 24-hour Starbucks to continue our conversation. Perhaps it was the alcohol

, or perhaps it was the heartache, but I only remember mentioning discovering Viola's hidden files, and then

nothing more.

[xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx]

In an unfamiliar environment, with a splitting headache, I forced my eyes open and looked around. I was lying on a pink sofa

. Was this someone's living room? Moonlight streamed through the blinds, dappling the floor. I couldn't tell the time; it

was probably the middle of the night.

Urgently needing to urinate, I started looking for a toilet. Suddenly, I heard the sound of running water. Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, I didn't realize

I was in someone else's house. Not realizing it wasn't Viola inside, I instinctively opened the door and went in

. Ignoring the person showering behind the curtain, I went to the toilet and started using it.

"Ah!!" A soft exclamation came from behind me. I turned my head at the sound.

Drips of golden hair, a few strands clinging to her forehead, made her features even more delicate after removing her makeup

. A towel covered her most sensitive areas, but her exposed, snow-white skin, accentuated by the rising steam

... It was even more suggestive.

Because of the sound of water, Joan didn't notice anyone coming in until she stepped out of the bathtub and realized someone was standing

in front of the toilet.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other. Having just woken up, and still stimulated by the scene, my

manhood was now erect. Joan suddenly glanced in that direction, blushed, and despite her

embarrassment, she slowly leaned closer… In her gaze, I seemed to

see Viola's image in her eyes again, then her nose, her mouth, and then the person in front of me transformed into Viola.

I turned ninety degrees, grabbed Joan around the waist, and lifted her up completely. Her legs seemed to tighten around my

waist in response. The two kissed passionately. The bathroom was steamy; the bathtub, still

filled with hot water from Joan's bath, was still running. While kissing me, Joan removed my shirt, making things easier—she was already naked

.

I carried her into the tub, simultaneously kicking off my half-undone pants. Then,

squatting down , I lowered her into the water. Straightening up,

I lifted her again and slowly lowered her, entering her in a lotus position.

Joan actively moved her hips up and down, stroking my penis, her fairly firm breasts rubbing against my

chest. Her arms were around the back of my neck, her legs stretched across my thighs.

Leaning back , after kissing me for a while, she faced the ceiling, panting heavily and moaning,

"Oh," "Good," "Good," "Again,"

"Mmm, so good," "Mmm, so great."

To be honest, I wasn't used to such a direct and explicit way of moaning, especially in English.

So, the overlapping images of Joan and Viola slowly separated, and I gradually became more awake.

At that moment, a voice in my mind told me to stop,

and another voice followed,

clearly tilting to one side.

The battle between the two voices in my mind lasted only a few seconds. Having made up my mind, I began to

take the initiative. I had my arms wrapped around Joan's waist, but now I held her with one arm and

caressed her ample breasts with the other.

As if suddenly remembering something, Joan abruptly stopped and gently pushed me away. "Wait...wait...use a

condom," Joan whispered.

"I don't have one, do you?" I asked.

"I don't either...then...let me take my pill," Joan said again.

"Okay, I'll carry you," I laughed.

Joan's height was roughly the same as mine, maybe less than five centimeters. I'm 178 cm, so

she was at least 173 cm, probably around 175 cm. However, she wasn't very heavy, perhaps

because I go to the gym often.

Carrying her towards the kitchen, my penis slid out as soon as I got out of the bathtub. I don't know

how so many erotic novels online manage to do that, how the male and female protagonists can so easily maintain an "insertion"

while moving around? Anyway, I couldn't do that, because to achieve that, both people would need to be very cooperative and move

very slowly. With the lubrication of their love juices, even the slightest movement would cause it to slip out, right

?

Ah, this seems to have gone too far off-topic…

Anyway, I carried her to the kitchen, and then, at her signal, I put her down. Joan turned around and took a bottle of pills from

the cabinet , then went to the sink to fill it with water. While she swallowed the pills, I secretly came up

behind her and just like that, I inserted myself.

"Oh…" "You bad boy." Joan protested softly.

But then she was so overwhelmed she couldn't speak, only able to grip the edge of the sink with both hands, trying her best to lift her plump,

white buttocks. The two of them were thrusting violently, the penetration from behind much deeper than from the front, which made

it easier for me to apply force. As I pulled Joan back, I reached around to her front, playing with her breasts.

Joan gradually lost the strength to support herself at the same height, her hands slowly sliding to the edge of the sink, her body slowly

moving towards the ground. Slowly, our position changed from me standing, her leaning over the sink, to me

kneeling , her kneeling on the floor.

"Oh my god, you're so good, you're fucking me to death, fuck me, fuck me hard..." Joan suddenly cried out passionately.

Although she wasn't used to such lewd moans, they still provided a strange kind of stimulation, sending a shiver down her spine.

I thrust wildly dozens more times, unable to hold back any longer, and a stream of semen flowed into Joan's body. At

that moment, the image of Tony ejaculating on Viola flashed into my mind.

That night, I slept in Joan's bed, and a few hours later, we did it again. The next day, we both slept

until noon and did it again. Afterwards, we exchanged phone numbers, and I left Joan's house.

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