Tearin' Up Da'Bed

 “Arch that back!”  His hand shove down on the small of my back forcing my chest down and my whole pelvis tip to that angle he likes best.  My ass is up, my legs are spread and my knees are angled back… the whole position is tenuous, held up by determination and a stubborn grip upon the sheets.  My hands scrabble for some purchase on the bed as he slams into me, grasping frantically for desperate handfuls of anything, struggling to hold position.

“Play with your pussy.”  Crap he wants more than passive participation… he wants me to come. 

My face is smashed against the bed, his hand on my back pressing it down.  I keep my hold of the sheet and mumble against the bed, “Can’t.”

“Play.  With.  Your.  Pussy.”   There is no arguing with that tone.  Literally no wiggle room.

I let go with one hand and almost immediately my position begins to sag and slip.  I make a wild grab at the bed and wail, “Can’t.”  I snag a nail and feel the sheet tear. 

“I. Said. Play. With. Your. Pussy.”  Each word is a clench toothed growl as he is lunging deep into me. 

“Iwillfalldown.”  It comes out as a single sound.

He shoves my legs a little forward, sacrificing some of that sweet preferred angle but giving me a little leverage and I can finally obey.  And it does not take long to push myself over the edge.  This is the final act of a long series steps that started in the shower.  And once I come I reach down and anchor myself once again, my fingernail finding the same tear and through the ear pressed hard against the bed I can hear the fabric slowly tearing with each shove of his hips slamming against me. 

As we snuggled up after, I mumbled against his chest, “I think I tore the sheet.”

He laughed at me as I pointed out the hole and shrugged his usual shrug, "Nothing lasts forever, pretty girl."