And so we stood there, all four of us, fixed in a lurid tableau...Franny in suspended animation, her eyes closed and her arms and legs just dangling in the air, alone in her own private world of sensation, the voracious couple plundering her sexuality, their hands and mouths, their limbs and organs all working away to drain the lust from Franny's poor soul, I just standing there dumbstruck, my hand slowly going back and forth on my cock, watching my poor wife being driven to a place I had never taken her, lost in her surrender to sensation, worshipping her surrender with my own self pleasure, using both hands on myself in a vain attempt to convince myself it was someone else jerking me off and tryaing to find pleasure in the act.
I watched as Franny struggled to shake her head sideways, trying frantically to remove herself in the most elemental way from what was going on. She detached from Gayle's mouth, her lips spread apart in a rictus of expression I couldn't place or understand. She gasped once, twice, desperately inhaling, whispering out "Please, no more...no more. I can't, I just can't," and they stopped, the twin vultures of lust, understanding finally that a limit had been reached. Gayle dropped her hands away from Franny's nipples and breasts, sliding her arms under Franny's to help support as the poor shell tried to stand up, stumbling backwards from Tommy's lap, juices and moisture of all sorts running down her thighs.
I came, on the floor, watching her absentmindedly make her way to the back bedroom to collapse, and I wordlessly followed her, finding her laying on the bed. I covered us both with a sheet, holding her close, not knowing if she was awake or not, conscious or not, still with me or not.