Memory lane

It does not matter how many things Janny did to distract herself from thoughts of him; they always seemed to find a way to stray back to him. Every attempt to escape him had somehow taken her in a circle back to him, and she hated that. She wasn't in love with him — she knew better. She had felt better and deeper for other men that things didn't really go anywhere with. She had told the story several times before, but today she tried to tell it again, with another man. The sex was great, no doubt about that, but it somehow fell short — the kind of short that happens between a joint that's slightly stiff and one that works just right. She stood up to head into the bathroom, staggering and reaching for the nearest surface to steady herself. She had cum several times, and even now, something flowed down out of her pussy — warm and sticky. She couldn't tell if it was him or her. The room stank beautifully and damp, and was now warm. The same room that had been so cold earlier it had resulted in the friction of their bodies. And oh, how she loves to move and lose herself in her movements. She closed her eyes briefly and reimagined her delicate dance. She couldn't remember as much as she could recollect; she was sure she could recreate the entire thing again, but when she tried to remember, all she had were flashes of her body moving while she rode — taking in every inch of him as they both made sounds only two bodies could make.