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I Know It's Her Birthday

She straddled him as he woke. She stretched, put her hair on top of her head – he found that irresistable. He yawned, opened his eyes, saw the look on her face. Just knowing she was up to something made him start.

She felt him beneath her and pushed against him; leaned down and bit his lip.

“Again?” he reached up and traced a finger around one alert nipple.

She placed a hand on one shoulder; with the other she moved her panties to the side.

“Are you sure you have to go later? I hate that you’re gone one Saturday a month,” she allowed a half inch of him inside.

“Yeah, family thing,”

“I know it’s her birthday,”

“Don’t,”

She rose, allowing him to flop out of her.

“Not that, do that,”

“Yeah?” She asked taking more of him this time.

He moaned as she slowly rode him, loving the power she had over him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t let go of the other one – she was nothing compared to this.

On the floor, in the pocket of his jeans, his phone vibrated.

200 miles away the birthday girl felt sick.

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