Sweating

I watch a bead of sweat as it trails down his chest, I watch it as his muscles stretch and relax with each strain. I ache as I watch him. A ache of desire and need. I watch his movements, unrestrained and hungry. I watch as he towers above me, above my torso, above my hips, above my face. My hips are pulled and controlled by his hands, my hips are the only thing on the bed, the rest of me hangs down, hangs and lifts to match him. 

But that bead of sweat mocks me, it mocks my lips, mocks my tongue, it trails down slowly, and it pains me. Every drop of him belongs in my mouth, belongs filling my taste buds with him. His thrusts are painful, 

No, not in pain, in a twinge of fullness, a twinge of swelling greed. My cunt clinches and my core begs. His cum will course through me at this angle, will reach the deepest parts of me. Yet that bead of sweat mocks me. 

I close my eyes, I imagine licking him from his feet to his neck, I imagine that bead dripping down my throat, quenching and sating me. I cum, I cum in a crying outburst, I cum shaking violently, unable to breathe, uunable to think. I hear him curse, I feel him plunge and I feel his seed burst and seal me.