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Another day of obsession
(for TimEros' "Structured Erotica" competition)
for G. R.
I ask myself is a whore born or made because when you're on the screen my chest rises and falls
tongue flicks hot over my lips and you're always on the edge of my shivering periphery
my brown knitted, tongue pushed hard against my two bottom front teeth, my body never so agonized
and singing as this and after my shower, toweling off in the mirror and you're there behind me, mouth at
my neck and two fingers inside, above me, between my thighs as you cage my wrists in one hand and
drive your fingers into my mouth with the other because oh just your mouth is enough and you now
with a gun and what terrifies is what some are capable of drawing out of me, what things I just might let
them do so I take you in doses like lines, your smile inside me and my teenage-girl reaction to it, warm,
filling the empty spaces, little furtive truths awaiting my return, something to look forward to, you in a suit
and tie as you stand behind me, your hand at my neck and I’m scared at my own willingness oh please
hold yourself and enter me repeatedly but retract again and again, teasing and denying, oh why was this
sewn into me, your voice lacing itself into hot, tense coils inside me, almost a knife at my skin while
I slide down like a dress to my knees and suddenly there's a strange pressure in me and I’m so
surprised, I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect and you then with infinite tenderness placing me between your
thighs, the back of my head pressed against your chest while you finger me slowly, maddening circles
growing in rhythm and pressure, my center pooling with wetness then release, hard and relentless as
you hold me down with your arms, my body that threatens to hurtle and tremble its way into space
forever and both your essence and your name in me, that beautiful, lyrical name that could fall from my
lips forever and oh now the sweet bothering, that delicious discontent where control is only an illusion
and if your mouth touches hers I'll be lost forever
for G. R.
I ask myself is a whore born or made because when you're on the screen my chest rises and falls
tongue flicks hot over my lips and you're always on the edge of my shivering periphery
my brown knitted, tongue pushed hard against my two bottom front teeth, my body never so agonized
and singing as this and after my shower, toweling off in the mirror and you're there behind me, mouth at
my neck and two fingers inside, above me, between my thighs as you cage my wrists in one hand and
drive your fingers into my mouth with the other because oh just your mouth is enough and you now
with a gun and what terrifies is what some are capable of drawing out of me, what things I just might let
them do so I take you in doses like lines, your smile inside me and my teenage-girl reaction to it, warm,
filling the empty spaces, little furtive truths awaiting my return, something to look forward to, you in a suit
and tie as you stand behind me, your hand at my neck and I’m scared at my own willingness oh please
hold yourself and enter me repeatedly but retract again and again, teasing and denying, oh why was this
sewn into me, your voice lacing itself into hot, tense coils inside me, almost a knife at my skin while
I slide down like a dress to my knees and suddenly there's a strange pressure in me and I’m so
surprised, I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect and you then with infinite tenderness placing me between your
thighs, the back of my head pressed against your chest while you finger me slowly, maddening circles
growing in rhythm and pressure, my center pooling with wetness then release, hard and relentless as
you hold me down with your arms, my body that threatens to hurtle and tremble its way into space
forever and both your essence and your name in me, that beautiful, lyrical name that could fall from my
lips forever and oh now the sweet bothering, that delicious discontent where control is only an illusion
and if your mouth touches hers I'll be lost forever
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