Losing it…

He stands between my open legs, his hands on my bent knees.

I'm up on my elbows, staring at him in the midnight moon and candle light. 

A silvery stream of precum drips from his cock and hits my clit before slipping into silky folds.

The muscles in my neck tense and I hiss at him to fuck me.  He looks down at me, his one eyebrow arched and chuckles.

I make sure he understands that I am so not amused.  I usually love the mirthful chuckle that he has. It's very sexy, but tonight it just pisses me off.

I'm past the point of whining, or begging or being nice.  

"That...." I begin, barely able to get the words out as I watch his cock dripping down onto my body "... is mine".  My breath is ragged, my breasts rising in frustration.  

I can taste him; my mouth waters for the juicy, fat head in front of me, and yet my throat is dry and my voice croaks.

He reaches down and rubs my clit in gentle circles as he meets my fiery gaze.

My pussy aches for him, an acute need it's almost painful.  I can feel my lips open and beckon him. She, not I, will beg. She will swell and glisten under his fingers, her color deepening as she waits.

Knowing she will be victorious where I am not.

I stay quiet, trying not to interrupt her aura as he leans forward, slipping his hands under the small of my back and enters me.

I smile as my head snaps back.

Gloriously triumphant.