Much as I enjoy being responsible for my partner’s orgasm, there is something intensely arousing and intimate when I watch her pleasure herself.
I love to watch as she slides her hands over her body; stroking, touching, pinching and flicking. I love listening to the sounds she makes as she turns her self on, her arousal slowly deepening. I love to watch the expressions on her face, the widening of her eyes, the trembling of her lip as she finds a particularly sensitive spot.
I know that she knows I am watching and getting turned on by what I see. It may have started out as a show for me, but as her arousal glows, it becomes less and less about me and, as it should, more and more about her.
She sighs as she tugs sharply on her nipples. She moans as she slowly works one, then two fingers inside herself.
I smile, as she raises her fingers, glistening with her juices to her lips and tastes herself, moaning as she enjoys her own flavour.
Her fingers slide more rapidly; in and out, twisting as she fucks herself. I see those all to familiar movements, the tightening around her eyes, the shaking of her head, the rocking of her hips.
Her breathing quickens as her fingers drive her onwards. Each breath, a murmur, a moan, a sigh of pleasure.
I can see the flush rise on her skin; I can almost feel how close she is.
“Come,” I say softly, “Let yourself go.”
Her back arches sinuously, lifting her bottom off the bed. A series of soft, sharp, gasping cries escapes from her mouth as she surrenders to her climax.
Lost in the throes of her climax she barely notices as I cuddle up to her and hold her tight.
Her breathing returns slowly to normal. Her body shakes less violently. She turns to me, looks into my eyes, smiles and says “Fuck me…”