In the moonlit room my lover half sits against the head board, his legs spread, allowing me to nestle in and lean back into his chest. He wraps his arms around me and I drink deeply from my champagne glass. He strokes my breast and I close my eyes, enjoying the cool air wafting over me from the open window. I turn my head and he dips his head, his lips meeting mine, gently at first then moving harder, demandingly against mine. His hand slides up to my neck, around my throat as we kiss passionately.
The door creaks open, a tall stranger enters the room, he takes a seat in a chair and leans forward, his eyes on me. The light is not enough to make out his face clearly, but his presence is electric.
My lover takes my glass from my hand, he places it on the table. His hand moves down my body, he starts to trace gentle circles over my silken pantie covered mound, teasing me. I can't help but arch my hips up to meet him, urging him to stroke me harder. He continues his slow, languid movements, no urgency or hurry apparent in his actions. He slips his finger inside my panties, gauging my excitement, an intake of breath at how wet I am already. His strokes become more insistent, firmer, longer, his fingers easily slide deep inside me. He spreads my legs wider. I start at the feel of another man's hands on me. The stranger has slowly moved closer to the bed, kneeling on the floor between my lovers knees. His hands gently caress my thighs, up and down, then reach up and ease my panties off. I suddenly feel self conscious, embarrassed and try to conceal myself, my lover holds me firmly, stroking my hair and telling me relax honey, it's OK, I've got you.