Bex kept looking over at me so I decided to get out of her view a little bit. I could see them but I could see her struggling to see me. After a littl... while she didn’t look over again.Bex by now was all over this chap and occasionally whispering in his ear. My mind was going mad thinking what she is saying. My cock was rock hard and it nearly exploded when she started rubbing her arse against his cock whilst he was grinding up against her with his hand on her tit. She whispering in his ear. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough warmth on the chilled night but, somehow, were more than enough to make his arms slick with the slightest sheen of sweat. The girders that made him were not undone by Her but by his willingness to. More

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