The Straight Girl part 2

I felt his lips beside hers. The two of them, half kissing, half battling over my nipple. I felt the clash of teeth. Saliva dripped from their kiss. His hand reached out and held the heavy globe of my flesh and kneaded it too firmly. When he hooked his finger into me it was the same gesture I had seen him perform on her, and I inched away out of his reach. I slipped away from them, resting on the edge of the tussle, taking stock.

I could, of course leave the room. They were lovers. There was no need for me to stay and watch her obvious desire for him. He had not completely removed his clothing, stripping aside his trousers and settling against and then inside her. I watched. She was not the same lover I had known. This was not the languid weight of flesh that I had rubbed myself against. This was an active participant. Someone eager to become involved. A straight girl, moved by her straight lover.

I stood and circled the bed. When I reached out my hand there was her hip, warm and soft against my touch. He watched me settle on the bed behind her. He watched me. I watched him. I pushed myself so close to her that I became her. I felt him move in her and I knew how her body responded. I became her body. I responded.

He was staring at me and into me. His eyes were fingers on my skin. When I buried my forehead in her hair there was only the gentle rocking of her hips against mine.

She stopped. I didn't. He couldn't.

Apparently this catastrophe of cutting things short was my responsibility. "someone didn't stop" and not his fault at all. So that was the end of it. There was no suggestion that we could continue after this. There was no denouement. He stood up and she followed him and then there was just me and the damp cooling place in the bed where they had been, where she had been.