I caress and rub my clit as though it were my body against yours. And just like that, I am a throbbing wet mess. I am a hungerfuck of need.
I am your rosy-cheeked moaning lover of sweet sweet ness.
Of course you made me cum… how could I not?
the blessing…
I can only bite my tongue when you get on your knees Pinch my nipples to match the thrill of your coarse face grinding into my smoother-than-silk clit Pull your hair with each lap your tongue makes I can only bite your shoulder with each breath you heave then moan then moan then moan Lose yourself knuckle deep in me Dip yourself ball-heavy against me Hold my hips as I squirm your initials in the air Lick my pussy juice as it trails your throbbing shaft Your cock my fuck pole of delight that never ends Just don’t stop yet Panting each moan buck quiver whimper cry for this and that and yes and yes and oh fuck yes This moment of meeting and parting again and again inside and out upside and down I can only bite my tongue from begging you to stay to stay to stay one moan longer.
follow the light…
I have my version of this fancy.
It’s a poem of, oh, say sonnet-length;
it’s supple, undisrupted. It feels like this:
I close the door. (Behind it: gabble
and disjunction.) And I walk into the clear,
black night. I’m in a great arena. Nothing
can be seen – there may be nothing to be seen – except
of course for the ball on fire. That’s all I need.
That’s all: the darkness, and one burning sphere.
And I follow its light down the field.
-Albert Goldbarth –