Not So Secret Place

I sit in my secret place penning pleasure to pants bursting at the seams and listening to a stranger whispering my dirtied dreams in my ears.
I used to write poetry but nobody read it so I sunk into this depression of writing what was meant to draw excitement.
I get off on the thought of mouths ajar at the snap of my words.
Fuck me if you can, no one has touched me in years say for one sad sob of a man.
I bury my head to cry out the pleasures I long but no longer know, meanwhile claiming my ego is growing.
Nope still waiting for my needs to be met while my pen allows me to pretend I get something.
But I do get something....hundreds upon thousands of fans, 80% of them men that want to gather my legs and slide between sensitive skin.
But do I want any of them? The answer is classified, but I''ll reveal just a sliver, theirs one that delivers....
I find myself in my secret place, alone with his words, his voice, fingers tracing what he wants and needs, pace quickening, his favorite drink soaking my legs and my lips they purr without self questioning...his name.
My secret place isn't very secret as I know he knows and his mind watches from the shadows grinning a devious grin knowing every touch, every word, every curse, every scream is for him and him alone.
I lay in my secret place soaking him in my ink and our sweat as my eyes close to the sound of him catching his breath.
Smiles...he says "Are you satisfied yet?."