He’s not fucking you, he’s using you to fuck himself. Look at his tightly-closed eyes, his thrown-back head. You can study him at your leisure; right now you’re so far over his horizon, he can’t even see you in his mind’s eye. Look at how his pursed mouth sharpens his cheekbones and squares his jaw. Isn’t he beautiful, isn’t he delicious? You’re almost tempted to clench your cunt muscles around him to see the expression you love so much; of astounded, almost-pained intensity but you don’t want to draw attention to your attention just now; there’s too much perverted pleasure in your non-participation. Don’t make a sound, don’t move a muscle fuckdoll, your task is to lie passive and silent while he masturbates furiously using your cunt as an accessory.
You’re aching with longing to spread your legs wider and buck your hips to shove him deeper into you. Your wrists lie limp in their cuffs as though you aren’t battling the urge to strain against their hold and reach for him. No. Relax into it, accept, experience. Feel your heavy breasts bouncing with his rhythm; the only movement you’re allowed. Listen to his ragged breathing shorten and the wet slap of his skin meeting yours. Watch his eyes roll behind blank closed lids. Picture his clenching buttocks and the droplets of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck, the bulge and ripple of his sportsman’s muscles as he powers towards the finish line. You’re cheering him on in silence, go on you urge inside your head take it, have it, use it. I want to see you’ve forgotten me, the person beyond the slick flesh-sleeve wrapped around you. Let me peek through the keyhole at your private, secret self. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Do yourself, I’m not here.
He tenses and howls, a lone wolf-call of solitary victory; fierce joy, wild abandonment in every line of his posture. He’s gripping your wide-apart thighs hard enough to leave claw-marks as he slows and comes to rest within you, his breath hitching once or twice with your twitching cunt, your disciplined immobility overwhelmed by his orgasm.
And he opens his eyes, smiles with tenderness and wonder. Now he sees you – and the happiness in his expression sends a thrill through your blood; sweeter, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve known. You hope he sees that joy reflected in your radiant answering smile. Here I am.