“No, watch yourself,” he says as he again turns my face toward the mirror.
But I want to watch him. Watch his fingers plunging into my cunt, the back of his head as he sucks my nipples, finally his eyes as he watches me heating, coiling, shaking. Then he catches me looking. A slight tug from his fist in my hair and another “watch yourself.”
I don’t really like watching myself. It puts me too much in my own head… do I look ok? Why is my belly so jiggly, is this how I look turned on? My mascara is running. Does he really find me sexy or is he just being nice? Hmmm… etc.
Turn my eyes 20 degrees to the left, however, and suddenly I’m watching him watch me and it’s hard to breathe. He lets me linger on his eyes for a beat, so I know. Then a tug, harder this time and his cool voice softly into my ear, “I said, watch yourself.” And then, right then, as the command slides into my ear and I dutifully turn my eyes back to my reflection, I melt into a desperate puddle of need and heat and satisfaction.