This isn’t like me at all. Ok maybe it’s becoming more and more like me. Viewed from the outside, most people wouldn’t say I’m the dominant one in Ashley and my relationship. Most people would probably say the exact opposite, but it’s not like I’m a meek, submissive, skirt wearer. I mean I WAS wearing a skirt, but I’m not anymore. It came off somewhere in the process of riding my girlfriend’s face like the pony I never had. I’m not taking her to the glue factory anytime soon. Tonight has been a night of first experiences for me. For the first time I feel like I’m in charge. I run the show, wear the pants, lead the ring, boss the man, and I love it. Something woke up inside me like a werewolf at full moon, but shaved. Ashley bucks underneath me as I roll her clit between my fingers. She’s been begging me for the past fifteen minutes to fill her with my fingers but I haven’t given in. I can’t get enough of her desperate pleading. I’ve never teased her like this before, but I love the results I’m getting. This must be what dictators feel like: hungry for power. I could eat this shit like breakfast cereal.

“Spence…I can’t…take…gonna die!” Ashley struggles to rub herself harder against my hand but for the umpteenth times I pin her down with my lean cheerleading muscles.

“Maybe you should have focused less on skanking around and picked up weightlifting sweetie,” I tease as I run the tip of my tongue up her straining neck muscle to her earlobe which I suckle gently.

“You…ass…hole.” Ashley spits exasperatedly between gasping breaths.

Her eyes have been rolled into the back of her head for so long I’m getting worried they’ll stick that way so as a test I press down hard on her clit and bite her nipple. Yup, the eyes are back. Ashley’s brown eyes have turned black with the rage of a hungry and unquenched beast. She groans hoarsely and longingly, shudders for a moment and then feigns death. Her head lolls to the side open mouthed and her eyes roll into her skull again.