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It is a fact that we aren’t intimate in a very long time. But instead of avoiding it, she’s the one who brings it up. She suggests we try something different. Not because she’s into it, but because she can see how much I’m struggling and she genuinely wants to fix things between us.
There’s something almost uncomfortable about that. The fact that she’s willing to step outside her own preferences just to meet me halfway. It makes me feel both grateful and guilty at the same time.
So we end up watching something together. Porn. And I make the mistake of putting interracial Porn. It feels awkward at first, like neither of us really knows how to act. She’s a bit hesitant, not really used to it, and I can tell she’s doing this more for me than for herself.
At the beginning, she’s almost detached. Maybe even a little judgmental, like she doesn’t quite get the appeal. But she stays, she doesn’t shut it down. She’s trying. She glances at me, rubbing and watching if I get hard. I glance back, ask her if she’s enjoying it and she answers she’s glad we are being intimate.
Then something slowly shifts.
It’s subtle at first. The way she pays a bit more attention, the way her reactions stop feeling forced. She gets quieter, more focused. Not in an exaggerated way, just… present in it. I wonder if she’s intrigued by the noises and pleasure of the actress or by the BBC.
She asks to keep watching. Not in a dramatic way, just casually — but it stands out, because now it feels like it’s coming from her, not from me.
And that’s the moment that sticks with me.
Because I can see curiosity there. Not just tolerance, not just “doing this for me,” but something that’s starting to pull her in. It’s confusing to watch, because part of me feels like this is progress — like we’re finally reconnecting somehow.
But another part of me notices the difference in her, and it unsettles me.
It’s like I’m seeing a side of her that wasn’t there before… or maybe was always there, just hidden. And I don’t know if I’m the reason it’s coming out, or just the one watching it happen.
I feel her lose interest in me. My own hard log, there waiting for her. While she’s fixated on that massive darker shaft. Asking if they’re really that big in real life. Muttering “how the hell…” and “woah…That must feel…”
I become hyper-aware of myself in that moment. Of how disconnected I feel. Of how I’m waiting for her attention to come back, but it doesn’t.
She’s not trying to hurt me. That’s what makes it worse. She’s just being genuine in her reaction, caught up in something that’s pulled her in. And I can’t compete with that — not in that moment.
It creates this quiet tension where I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to reach for her, to bring her back to me somehow, but I hesitate. Because I can tell that whatever’s happening in her head right now… I’m not really part of it.
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