But what could she do about it? During her time at Cambridge, Bethany had struck up good friendships with Kaitlin and Natalie who were on similar cou...ses to her at Trinity and they had shared a house together for most of the last two years. They had got really close and been out together but Bethany always felt that she was playing gooseberry when the other two went off with boys and she used to head off back to their house.Kaitlin had always wondered about Bethany’s sexuality as it seemed. Hic…breas…' 'We want poetry!' Shouted a member of the audience. 'Bollocks!' I replied immediately and unimpeded by the drink. 'Get off!' Came another shout. I answered this one by turning round, droppingmy jeans and bending over. 'Ass hole!' Was the audience's response. I stood up and turned back to face the audience. 'You've got it…hic…youbunch of arseholes!' I was aware of the cursing coming out of my mouth andthe obnoxious attitude of the performer speaking through me but who was. Growling in frustration my hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, eager to remove the barrier. Chris hadn’t been wasting time. Even while I was exploring his throat he found what he was searching for: the zipper of my little black dress. Chris sat up and pulled me with him, then I felt him pull the zipper all the way down. Before I could do or say anything he was pulling my dress off over my head, and tossing it over a chair. I sat there, held upright in his strong arms in just my black. I can feel the nerve endings going dark...the relative coolness on my naked skin, exasperated by your wetness...and finally a void, an emptiness, the feeling of being without. As the head of my prick pulls free from your sex, strands of your essence form the last bridge of our lust. It feels like getting out of the shower too quickly, when you’ve woken up too early, on a morning in January that’s too cold. The only place in the world that you ever want to be is back inside that warm, wet.