Mirror

I gaze at her in
The mirror we’re sitting by:

Her eyes half-lidded,
Her lower lip bitten,
Her breathe quickening and catching
As she watches herself

My hand under her oversized shirt
Cradling her soft breast,
Teasing her nipple with a tug

My other hand delving between her thighs
Fingers like gentle pistons
Probing for some confirmation
Of her satisfaction

She quivers with shaky breath,
Pressing against me,
Eager for that relief

I plant my lips along her neck,
Hands ceaselessly tickling and teasing,
Inspired to induce orgasm
Which she attempts to aid
With naughty looks and dirty talk

But I maintain a steady pace,
Enamored with her endured face,
So she will accept this loving torment
As long as it please her