When her legs stop shaking, she stands behind me, still vying for control. She tells me it’s time to come for her. I laugh and say I come when I chose to, not when she tells me.
She increases the speed of her hand, but it doesn’t change anything. I tell her she must have me mistaken for the man she left in bed. The one who this works on all too easily.
After five minutes, when her arm is getting weak and desire and anger are gnawing at the back of her head, she finally says it.
I can hear the break in her voice.
"Please let me see you come. I need to watch you come."
"Why do you need to see that cock paint the floor?"
"Because I want to please it. I need to know that I please it."
"That wasn’t so hard, was it?"