Just Stop Thinking

You look over at me and sigh. We've been going over and over what happened and nothing makes sense, really. I understand what happened and when, but I still can't make it make sense.

"Why did they do it?" I ask you, again.

You close your eyes.

"We are never going to know," you say.

"What was it about us that made it easy to hurt us?" I ask.

"I don't know," you say, probably for the hundredth time since we met.

I feel tears come to my eyes. What was it about me that made him want someone else? Why am I not enough for him? My shoulders are tense, my jaw clenched. I'm so tired. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks, years, decades.

"Hey," you say. I look over at you. You take a step closer to me and put your hand on my cheek. I feel my heart twinge. We have never stood this close to each other before. My face has never been this close to yours. I notice for the first time that your eyes are a greenish blue, with some copper flecks near the pupil. Your hand is still on my cheek.

"I don't want to think anymore," you say. You let your fingers trail down my neck, slowly, and rest on my collarbone.

I am no one to you except by circumstance. Given any other situation we would never have met. But your touch is the first good thing I've felt in a while, and I give in to it. I close my eyes and let out a small, quiet sound.

You reach for the top button of my shirt and open it. I keep my eyes closed while you undo the buttons and expose my breasts. I haven't put on a bra in weeks; I've barely gotten dressed most days.

"Is this okay?" you ask as you touch my belly. I nod and put my hand over yours. I take your hand and move it over my breast. I press your hand to me and you drag your thumb over my nipple. Your thumb feels calloused and rough. I let go of your hand and you do it again. You touch me reverently, with focus, intent on the pink peak of my nipple, the curve of my breast and the softness of my skin.

He never touched me this way.

You hold me by the waist with both hands and walk me over to the couch. I let myself be guided down into the soft cushions, and let you ease the shirt from my shoulders. You kneel in front of me and nestle your cheek into my belly. I hold your head to me and stroke your thick hair, long over your ears. There is a hitch in your breath; I wonder if you laid your head against her this way.

I place my hands in your hair and bring your head up so that your lips are close to my breast. You open your mouth and take in my nipple, sucking its hard tip. The stubble on your chin burns my delicate skin. It is a sweet pain. I roll my head back and moan as you move to take the other nipple in your mouth. As I moan I can feel blood rushing to my pussy and I ache, I ache, I ache to be touched there.

We sit for a few moments like this, you sucking my nipple, licking my breast, gently touching the skin on my belly and being so tentative. It feels good as you touch me, but this is not what I want. It's not what you want, either.

So I lift your head to look at me. I tell you "Don't think. Don't think. Just do it." You narrow your eyes for a second and then dip your chin.

And then you're undoing the button on my pants, pulling the zipper down and I'm taking my jeans off as you unzip and drop your own pants. My eyes are drawn to the outline of your cock in your underwear and I reach for you, pulling your boxers down and taking your cock in my hand. You moan and sigh and pant as I stroke you. You are still standing before me and feeling my breasts, running your fingers over my nipples.

I drop down to the floor. We look at each other briefly and then you look away. I take your cock in my mouth, kneeling in front of you, running my tongue over your cock and licking your balls, smelling the sweat and musk of you, so unfamiliar to me. I take your cock into my throat a little and the groan you let out makes me take it a little deeper. You put your hands on my head and fuck deeper into my throat, choking me. My eyes are watering and I can't breathe for a moment. I've never been this wanton in my life and I don't even care, because all I want to do is feel nothing, for once. I want you to use me. To fuck me until I can't remember my name. To use every part of my body that you need to use.

After a few minutes you start to moan louder. I can't take any more of you into my mouth so I use my hands at the base of your cock to give me some space to breathe. Your moans are like fuel to my need, and I suck you greedily until you come in my mouth. I swallow your cum without even thinking.

I never acted like this for him.

I stand up and you put your hands on my waist and push me down to the couch. You kneel in front of me and lean forward, opening my folds and licking my pussy. You lick softly at first and then harder and harder, and it feels good but also like too much. It feels like so much that I can't think of anything else at all, and you add some of your big fingers into my cunt and now I'm moaning loudly and with abandon. I can't tell how many fingers you have inside me but I am full and stretched out to take them. I feel what must be your thumb rubbing my asshole. I hear myself whimper.

Before I can become aware of it's approach, an orgasm slams into me and I am overwhelmed by the sensations in my body. Every muscle tenses and I grip the cushions next to me. It feels so intensely good that it is almost painful, and you don't stop touching me and licking me even when I am finished crying out and have started to sob. Finally I put a hand to your head and push you away. You look dazed as you sit up, wiping your mouth.

I look at you, tears streaming down my face, and breathing heavily, and you glance at me and then pull me towards you. I think you are going to take me in your arms and comfort me, but instead you lead me to the floor, turn me so that I am face down, and nudge my legs closer together with your knee. You lift my hips to meet you and press your cock to my entrance. I arch my back.

And then, nothing happens. I don't know whether you are deciding to go through with this, or whether you are done. I can hear you breathing.

I don't want to wait anymore.

"Do it," I say. And you enter me, pushing into me all at once. Your hips hit my ass as I take the whole length of you. My face drags across the rug, and for a moment I wonder if I will have a rug burn on one cheek. But then I don't even care about that. I just want you to fuck me into the floor, fuck me until I can't speak, fuck me so that I will feel something other than the pain that burns in my belly, that's eating me alive from the inside.

Over and over, you slam into me, grunting.

You've got your hand on my back, pressing me to the floor. My nipples scrape the rug with each thrust. My mouth is open and my eyes closed.

Yes, I think. Use me. Use me. Did you ever use her like this, I wonder?

You moan in a terrible mix of pain and pleasure, as though everything is being pulled out of you by force. I can feel another orgasm building and when I come again, it is with my whole body. I shake and scream and cry and I feel wave after wave of it rolling over me and taking me under. I let my body sag to the floor and pant, trying to recover, barely recognizing where I am.

Wordlessly, you stop thrusting, collapsing on top of me. The weight of you brings me back to my body. The skin on my belly feels raw from the rug beneath me. You pull out of me with a jerk of your pelvis. I feel a gush of your cum leaking from me, but I cannot move. You have pinned me to the floor.

It has grown dark outside and the light next to the couch throws shadows around the room.

I wonder if it worked. If you were able to fuck all the thoughts out of your head. If you were trying to fuck the thoughts out of mine, or if it even mattered that I was there.

You roll off me and lay on your back. You place a hand on my back, patting me a couple of times, and then withdraw it. I roll over onto my back and reach for your hand. You hold it lightly, but I know you're not here with me. You're somewhere else right now, somewhere with her, thinking of how it is with her. Do you ever think about how it is with the two of them together, I wonder? Do you think about whether he says sweet words in her ears, whether he touches her like she is something he treasures? Do you think about whether she gives herself to him as freely as she does to you? Is she a slut for him? Is she a slut for him like I was for you?

I get up and go to the bathroom, use the toilet and clean myself up, and then find my clothes on the floor. You're still on the floor, eyes closed, as I slide my pants back on and button up my shirt. I find my shoes and my purse and head for the door. I don't say anything as I slip out.

I'm about 20 minutes away when my phone buzzes.

"Hope you're okay," I read. I set the phone down on the seat again.

The phone buzzes again a few minutes later.

"Thank you," I read. "Maybe we can do this again sometime." I pull my car into a parking lot nearby and turn off the ignition. I sit for a minute with my fingers poised over the keyboard, looking at your messages.

Then I block your number, and drive away.