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I keep my mouth shut while his fingers slink inside my dress and cuff my shoulders, peeling off the fabric a little and pushing it to my arms.
If he continues to do that, my chest will be exposed.
I’m not sure if that’s his plan. I’m still focused on his words while he’s still weighing his answer.
This is not about picking a man. It’s never been. Why is he saying that?
Besides, even if it is, I can’t do it.
“Why would you say that?” I ask.
His eyes never come to mine, a soft smile tilting his lips.
“Because it’s natural to happen…”
He thinks?
Is spending time with all of them natural too? Since when is an orgy all about selecting a mate?
You share pleasure with more men because you want everything. The sensation, the lust, and haze. The high.
I think I need that high right now.
And maybe that thing has fucked with our brains. Maybe spending time separately wasn’t such a good idea.
Things were easier when we fucked together. There were no emotions, no secrets, or resentment.
This fucks us up.
And now that I think about it… What exactly does picking someone mean in this case?
I don’t even want to think about it.
“It may be natural as you say it is, but it’s never crossed my mind,” I say.
That might be a lie. Or a half-lie.
I’ve never thought about it, but the thought process must’ve happened regardless of what I wanted.
Was it an unauthorized use of my brain? Yes.
Was it fruitless? Yes.
But it was there.
So, yes.
It probably happened, but it never reached that awareness level where I’d seriously consider it.
He must’ve anticipated all this. He must’ve known I’d get to this point.
But see, that’s the thing. I don’t want to get to this point. If anything, I want them to get to that point.
And that’s all I can say.
“Don’t think about it. If it happens, it happens. If not, that’s fine,” he says.
So maybe this is not as important as I thought.
