The View I Couldn’t Look Away From

We met them for drinks — easy conversation, cheeky touches, and that spark in their eyes that told me they were just as curious about us as we were about them. By the time we headed to their hotel suite, there was no doubt in my mind how the night was going to end.

I settled into the armchair, wine in hand, watching as my love took her to the bed. She was laughing softly at something he’d said, but her body language told the real story — leaning into him, eyes half-lidded, lips parting as his hands traced her curves. He kissed her slowly at first, coaxing her deeper into the moment, and then with more urgency, pulling her closer until they were moving together like they’d done it a hundred times.

Her man joined in from behind, and suddenly it was a perfect rhythm — her in the centre, both of them focused entirely on her pleasure. She gripped them like she never wanted to let go, her moans spilling into the room, mixing with their low voices and the sound of bodies pressing together.

I felt my cheeks warm, my breath quicken. I crossed my legs, then uncrossed them, unable to keep still. Every movement they made, every sound she let out, sent another wave of heat through me. My love looked completely in his element, and I couldn’t help imagining myself in her place.

They didn’t stop until she was shaking, her hair messy, her skin glistening. All three collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of flushed skin and satisfied smiles. I set my glass down, walked over, and leaned in close.

Next time, I thought… I’m not just going to watch