This meant me and Ellie had to take up residence on her bedroom floor in sleeping bags. It was uncomfortable to say the least and I tossed and turned ...in the dark for a good 30 minutes. I turned over to face Ellie, who was having the same issue as me. We smiled at each other in the dim light of the room, unsure of what to say.Then, Ellie slowly reached out a hand to my face. I did the same, leaning in slowly and slowly until our lips were centimetres apart. With a jolt, Ellie moved her face. She was staring at me. I got out of bed, turned the picture frame around to face the wall and got back into bed. After ten minutes of lying there I got up, walked to my desk and happened to look down at the wastebasket and the shredded letter. Thinking that was what was keeping me awake, I moved the wastebasket to the hallway and went back to bed. When I still couldn't sleep I got out of bed again, turned my desk lamp on and found a single sheet of blank stationery.Dear Becky,I'm involved with. Without taking her eyes off the two strangers Stacy reached her other hand down and began to rub her clit. Still we watched the two women. They had turned now and were looking more in our direction but I could see we were still just outside of their peripheral vision. “Cum for me, Stacy. I want to hear you cum. Don’t stop, I want to cum with you.” Stacy groaned louder this time, her hand moving faster on her clit, her nipples getting harder in my mouth as I toyed with her ass. “Oh, fuck,. So, it might be a good idea to start practising those dance routines. You know you want to. Or, grow yourself a moustache. All the bestest, mostest virile, super-hunks of all time have sported resplendent examples of facial hair on their upper lip. Think Adolf, or Josef, or Fidel, or Mouammar, or Saddam, or Vladamir or Che or Osama; all moustachioed super-hunks. Grow yourself a handlebar, a horseshoe, a chevron and in no time at all her perky cheerleaderness will dissolve into a pool of gooey.