The mirror

The denim shirt is on the bed and I am in the silk slip, camera on the dresser, telling the phone what the mirror already knows. Josh stands behind me. Thirty-three. He asked if the tall glass was for work. I said no. I said it is for me watching you fuck my cunt, and for the lingerie I put on after I decided. He went quiet in the good way. I said you may touch the silk. Ask before you move it.

He gathered the slip in both hands and kissed the back of my neck and told me I looked expensive and wreckable and completely in charge. I said then fuck me on my terms. He slipped a hand under the silk and found my cunt bare and wet. In the mirror I watched his wrist disappear and my mouth fall open. He rubbed my clit and said look at you, look at how your cunt leans back for it. I did. I said two fingers. He gave them, slow, and I rocked on his hand until my thighs shook. I told him I was going to cum and I wanted my eyes open. I came that way, staring at my own face, his mouth at my ear saying yes, that is it, I have you.

Then I bent forward, hands on the dresser, slip rucked to my waist, and said now your cock, and do not block the glass. He put his cock in my cunt and we both watched. The slide of his cock, the swing of the silk, my breasts in the loose lace edge. He said he could see my cunt taking the fuck and that I was beautiful doing it. I said harder, and I said tell me when you are close. He did. I said cum in my cunt, I want to see my face when you do. He came with a broken sound and I watched that too, greedy, pleased. The camera stayed a prop. Some pictures are only for the moment. This was one.