The river stones are doing serious damage to her knees and she spreads her legs farther apart to relieve some of the pressure without letting up on the rocking. He’s watching her body, watching the moon filtered light on her navel, watching the place he goes in her and leaves her behind for someone she can‘t see.
This is me fucking him outdoors.
There’s a May breeze sending her hair aloft and she shivers without being able to stop, wonders why romance is always so damn frigid. The water rushes over the rocks below and an owl somewhere above is asking for identification. Leaning over she presses her cold face in his neck and tries to kiss him but he pushes her back. “I want to see you.”
This is me watching him fuck me.
She’s still fascinated by his effort and easy trusting slide into her. Still thinks she might find a way to crawl inside this part he cast for her and feel it from the inside. It just takes a reach around to end this but she lets him go a little longer, lets him love her a while longer.
This is me fucking myself.
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